A Harry Situation
by Jelsemium
Summary: A summer of owls gives way to a school year of OWLs. Yet allies and fun still lurk in unexpected places. I just updated Chapter 25 to fix the problem of the unfinished sentence. PS. This story is 25 Chapters long, in spite of claiming to have 28.
1. Cat Morning

#A Harry Situation 

By Jill Weber 

Characters Owned by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit. 

Rating: G

Harry Potter stopped at the foot of the stair and debated the wisdom of bolting back to his room. He'd thought he'd risen early enough to avoid the Dursleys, but he could hear Aunt Petunia in the kitchen, crooning in that saccharine way that meant she was talking to Dudley. Harry could not imagine what apocalyptic phenomenon could get his cousin out of bed at six o'clock on a muggy July morning, but whatever it was, the crack of dawn was too early to deal with it. He refused to contemplate the end of the world while most of said world was still asleep.

He was just about to beat a retreat when Aunt Petunia's actual words became clearer. "Now little missy had better finish her breakfast before Vernon and Duddy-kins get up for breakfast." Harry cocked his head. So, who was 'Little Missy' and why did she have to eat before Uncle Vernon and Dudley got up? Curiosity piqued, Harry tightened the belt of his colorless, shapeless bathrobe and moved silently down the hall. He paused, then gently pushed the door open.

Aunt Petunia was talking to a calico cat. Harry removed his glasses, rubbed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then resettled the glasses on his nose. Aunt Petunia's companion remained a cat. Harry couldn't believe that his Aunt Petunia would do something so human as to own a cat. Apparently the age of miracles was not yet over. Harry snorted and turned to go back to his room. He didn't think Aunt Petunia would appreciate being spied on.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon's bellow caused Harry to jump backward and fall against the door. Vernon's meaty fist grabbed the front of Harry's robe and jerked him forward. "Fix my breakfast, you good-for-nothing lay-about! I have to get in early today." He shoved Harry through the door.

Harry went sprawling onto the linoleum that he had so vigorously scrubbed the previous day. Petunia Evans Dursley leaped to her feet with a small shriek. The cat shrieked and leaped from her lap. Then it bounded up to the kitchen counter, sending crockery crashing to the ground.

"What the devil…?" Vernon sputtered. Then he spotted the cat. "What the devil is that CREATURE doing in my house??" he roared. "Petunia, you know I'm allergic!"

"I… I didn't…" Petunia, on the verge of saying she hadn't known Vernon was awake, trailed off.

Vernon put his own interpretation on the words. "BOY!" as Harry gained his feet, he aimed a swat at Harry's head. "How _dare _you bring a filthy cat into my house!" His face was beginning to take on that peculiar shade of puce it always did when he had to deal with Harry.

Harry ducked easily. "That's not…" he cut off his denial mid-sentence at Petunia's pleading glance. He was never sure afterward why. Perhaps because it was the first time his mother's sister had ever looked at him with anything besides loathing. Besides, Vernon wouldn't believe him anyway. 

"That's not _what_, Boy?" Vernon growled.

Harry hunted around for a lie that his uncle might believe. "It's not… a cat." he finished.

"WHAT!" Vernon cried. "Do you think I don't know…"

"What is it, then?" Petunia blurted. "One of those nasty creatures like my sister had? A…" Now it was Petunia's turn to come up with some sort of believable lie. "A… pixie, was it?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said. "It's a pixie." Of course, the calico cat looked nothing like a pixie, but Vernon wouldn't know that.

The color drained out of Vernon's face. For a moment, Harry wondered if he was going to have a heart attack. Then Vernon got a grip on himself and the front of Harry's ratty robe. "Boy, that… THING had better be out of my house by the time I get back… or… or… it's back to the cupboard with you!" Then he stormed out of the house, muttering about getting breakfast on the road.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and adjusted his robe.

"Thank you."

Now it was Harry's turn to feel like he was going to have a heart attack. He gaped at his aunt for several minutes, never in fourteen years with the Dursleys had he heard those words go from her mouth to his ears. "Excuse me?" he said, voice somewhat higher than it had been five minutes ago. "Did you just _thank _me?'

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but Petunia actually looked abashed. For a long moment, she didn't say anything. "I've always wanted a cat," she said. "But my parents were allergic, and so are your uncle and cousin. I was hoping…" She shook her head and sighed. "Obviously, I can't keep her. My family has to come first. But where can we send her?"

"How about Mrs. Figg?"

Petunia sighed. "I got her from Mrs. Figg. Somebody gave it to her, but she said that Missy and her cats didn't get along. She's too old to have to worry about breaking up cat fights."

"Erm, I guess I could send her to one of my friends," Harry said. "Hedwig has carried heavier packages."

Now it was Petunia's turn to be pushed the brink of cardiac arrest. "You wouldn't let that creature eat Miss?" she shrilled.

Harry gave her a disgusted look. "Of course, she wouldn't. Hedwig's not a creature! She's my friend!"

They glared at each other, then looked away. There was a long silence. Suddenly, they were both tired of this game, but neither really knew how to end it, nor what to replace it with.

"How will your owl carry her without hurting her?" Petunia asked finally.

"I have no idea," Harry confessed. That was followed by another long silence.

"If you clean up the kitchen and fix Dudley's breakfast, I'll buy a cat carrier when I do the shopping," Petunia said.

"Deal," Harry agreed.

***

Petunia returned that afternoon with a soft-sided cat carrier. Her Duddydums was at the cinema with his friends, so he wouldn't see his mother consorting with the enemy. Petunia's mouth thinned as she thought about her disgraceful behavior that morning. Imagine, she'd actually felt kindly toward that unnatural brat of her sister's! She marched upstairs to the bedroom they'd been forced to let Potter use and barged in without knocking. For the second time that day, she almost had a heart attack.

Potter was sitting at Dudley's spare desk, stroking Little Missy and writing something with a feather. Little Missy, that traitor, was rubbing her head against Potter's hand, trying to get his full attention. The white owl was watching them benignly. Petunia snorted. Like an owl could have emotions like benign.

Two pairs of jade green eyes and one pair of autumn gold eyes turned toward her. 

"Good, you got it," Potter said. He stood. "I was just writing to Mrs. Weasley. She's the red-headed woman you've seen at the train station."

Petunia snorted. "You think she'll take Little Missy in?" she asked, hardening her heart. The cat obviously liked that freakish boy. She'd probably be just as happy with the freak family. Stupid to get attached to an animal, especially something as vaguely unnatural as a cat. She held out the cat carrier. "You're sure the owl can carry her?" she added.

The owl hooted scornfully. (No, animals cannot feel scorn, Petunia Evans Dursley. That was just a fancy of your freakish sister's!)

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said. "Hedwig can easily carry a small cat like Pixie. Mrs. Weasley will be sure to find a home for her." A note of irony entered his eyes and voice. Molly Weasley is very kind to strays, as I should know."

Petunia felt a flash of shame, then she stifled that emotion. It wasn't her fault that her _freak _of a sister had got herself blown up! She dropped the cat carrier. "Good, and you can consider the cat carrier your birthday AND Christmas present this year." She stomped out of the room without a backward look. She had no time for cats, owls or freaks. She had work to do.

***

"Ginny? Ginny, dear! You have an owl!"

Ginny and Ron exchanged incredulous looks. "I do? From who?" she called as she ran down the stairs.

"Ooo, ickle Ginny-kins is a poet!" Ron jeered after her.

Any reply Ginny might have made was forgotten when Mrs. Weasley answered. "It's from Harry, dear."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "Why's he sending _her_ an owl! He's _my _best friend!"

"Hedwig brought a package," Mrs. Weasley said.

"That doesn't answer my question," Ron replied sulkily.

Freed from her burden, Hedwig flew over to a perch. Absently, Ron filled the water dish and stroked Hedwig's snowy feathers. "What is it?" he asked.

Ginny opened the cat carrier, and Pixie answered for herself. "Awww!" Ginny cried. She picked the calico up and began cuddling her. Pixie began to purr. "Hello, kitty!"

"Oh, how adorable! How sweet of Harry to send her!" Mrs. Weasley said, coming over to pet the cat. 

"Why'd he send you a cat?" Ron demanded, but he was more curious than sulky by now.

With some reluctance, Ginny set the cat down and read the letter. "_Dear Ginny, I need your help. This is Pixie and she needs a home. I'm hoping you will want to keep her or that you can find a home for her. I appreciate your help. Cheers, Harry. P.S. Tell Ron to stop scowling, I'll send him a letter as soon as I have an owl available, this was an emergency. -- HP._"

Ginny picked up the cat again. "Oh, can I keep her, Mum? Please?"

"Yes, please let her keep the cat," Ron said, grinning now. "Our reputation as kind hearted rescuers of orphans is at stake." He reached out at stroked the calico's head. 

Ginny shot him a sideways look, but Ron looked sincere.

Mrs. Weasley was smiling. "Of course you can keep her, dear. Why don't you see if she wants something to eat?" She shook her head. "I wonder why he named her Pixie? She doesn't look anything like one."

"Since Hedwig's here, I'll write Harry a note," Ron said, ignoring the question. He bounded out of the room and thundered up the stairs, ignoring the abundance of quills and parchment that were scattered around the rooms downstairs.

Ginny shrugged. "Who can figure boys?" she told her mother, striving for a casual tone. She carried Pixie into the kitchen. As soon as she was alone, she sat down and gasped for air. This was a cat from _HARRY POTTER_! She felt like her heart was going to explode from sheer happiness. He had _thought _of her! She tickled her new cat and said: "Hello little Pixie. Can you use your pixie magic to make Harry interested in me?"

Pixie bumped her head against Ginny's knee and purred.


	2. Owl Afternoon

A Harry Situation

By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium

Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Chapt. 2: Owl Afternoon

The Weasleys at the Burrow:

It was a hot, muggy July afternoon when Molly Weasley decided that it was time to clean the attic. "I haven't heard the ghoul for several nights," she said. "Likely the heat has sent it into… oh, what's the word? Not hibernation…"

"Aestivation," Virginia "Ginny" Weasley supplied.

Molly beamed at her youngest and only female offspring. "Thank you," she said.

Ronald, Molly's youngest son, scowled at his sister. "Show off," he muttered.

"Try reading sometime, Ron," Ginny advised. "Something besides Quidditch magazines and Martin Miggs comic books."

"Your textbooks would be a good idea," Molly growled, interrupting the argument with the ease of long practice.

"Mu-um! Summer's just started! I've got plenty of time!"

"Then you can help me clean out the attic," Molly said firmly. 

"MUM! It's like a dragon hatchery up there!" Ron whined.

"Or you can degnome the garden."

"Can't say that there's nothing to do!" Ginny said snidely.

Ron stopped, mouth slightly ajar. Which was worse, an essay about dragon bile or cleaning out the stifling hot attic? He sighed. "I'll get started on my homework," he muttered. "I'll be outside," he grabbed some school gear and headed outside. Hedwig swooped off the perch and flew past him when he opened the door.

"Do some degnoming while you're out there!" called Molly.

"Yes, Mum," Ron sighed, letting the door bang shut.

Molly just sighed and shook her head. Why could boys remember every time their favorite Quidditch seeker got fouled, but couldn't remember to shut the door?

Molly turned to Ginny. "Why don't you and I see if we can get a start on the attic. Unless you have homework?"

"I've finished my potions essay," Ginny sighed. "Hermione was going to send me a copies of her last year's notes to help me with my other essays." She didn't want to clean out the attic, but there was no escaping once Mum had made up her mind. Better to just get it over with.

"Good, then, let's make up a batch of lemonade and get started."

Ginny sighed louder and gave her mother a sideways look. "Ron's just going to write to Harry, you know that."

Molly snorted, then smile wryly. "Well, the poor dear needs some cheering up," she said. _We all need it, actually_,' she admitted to herself.

Harry at #4 Privet Drive

Harry moved to the window quickly when he heard the tapping noise. He frowned a little when he didn't recognize the Tawny owl perched on the windowsill. He opened it with some reluctance and moved back a few paces. The owl had a medium sized package on either foot. Evidently whoever had sent it had tried to balance the load. The sender was obviously somebody who put some thought into things.

The Tawny settled down on the desk and held its right leg out expectantly. This leg had a letter attached to the package. Harry cocked his head so he could read the envelope without touching it, then he relaxed a little when he recognized the writing as Hermione's. "Well, hello," he said, putting Hedwig's water dish next to the Tawny while he removed the packages.

He relaxed even farther when it became apparent that he wasn't going to be port keyed away to some foul destination. He sighed, he'd been feeling so jumpy lately he was beginning to annoy himself. "I'll be just like Mad-Eye Moody by the time I leave Hogwarts," he told the Tawny, who just blinked at him.

Harry fed the Tawny an owl treat as he removed the second package. He turned the envelope over in his hand a few times before opening it. The paper was embossed with glossy yellow butterflies and pink and blue flowers and… and… was that a faint whiff of perfume? _Perfume_? From Hermione the bookworm? She wasn't… please… flirting with him? He shook his head. Impossible. More likely Hermione had been given the stationery as a present and was merely using it up, like the practical girl that she was… please. 

__

"Dear Harry,

This is Blodwen, I bought her as an anniversary present for my parents so they could write to me more often at school, and so I could write to my friends more often during the summer. I can't have an owl AND a cat at Hogwarts, and I'd rather have Crookshanks, anyway. You can't snuggle up to an owl! So technically this is my parents' owl who is going to be spending a lot of time at Hogwarts. It got rather tiresome to have to wait until I received mail before I could write to anybody, and then I couldn't always write to the person who I wanted to write, because the original sender of the owl would be expecting an answer… anyway, enough babbling.

How are you? And tell me the truth. I know you're not 'fine' and if you say that you are, then I will have to do something rash. Literally. I know I'm not permitted to hex you, but I'm sure I can find some Muggle way of giving you a nasty rash… there are Muggle equivalents for everything. You know how ingenious we have to be in order to survive without magic.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about Muggle equivalents of hexes lately. It will be easy enough to deliver them, (Can you still smell the perfume that I spilled earlier?) (Harry sighed with relief) _I am very close to coming up with something nasty that I can spray on my letters. Mostly because Ron is being an absolute prat over my upcoming visit to Bulgaria. Honestly, what does he expect to happen? My parents will be there, Viktor's parents will be there. I wish I knew what's got into that boy._

Anyway, please answer right away, I want to know how fast Blodwen is at delivering mail, among other things. This is her second delivery. Her first was to Prof. Dumbledore, so he would know that she's my parents' owl. One of the few not-prattish things that Ron said to me in his letter was that there are special wards around your place to screen out unwanted mail. I guess anything Dobby could do, Dumbledore can do better. Ron said that all the Weasley owls had to be screened, so I thought I'd better do the same.

I'm enclosing some stationery supplies for you, just in case you're running short. 

Harry frowned, then opened the first package. The stationery was cream colored and stiffer than any parchment he'd ever used for school, but at least it didn't have flowery stuff and perfume on it. There were also two fountain pens and an ink eraser enclosed. Trust Hermione to find a pen that could be used like a quill, yet not look too un-Mugglish to the Dursleys. Curious now, he opened the second package to find a fresh bottle of ink. He weighed the two packages in his hand. Yes, the ink bottle weighed about as much as the pens and the paper. Hermione seldom went wrong with details like that. He went back to his letter.

Don't worry, this isn't your birthday present, I have something quite nice picked out for you and it's not a book. I think you'll like it, even if it isn't laden with sugar or information about Quidditch. I bought one for myself and it's quite amusing.

Harry raised an eyebrow. There's something Hermione likes besides books? Alert the media!

By the way, I hope you recognize the source of Blodwen's name, as it was part of our History of Magic essay. Even if you haven't finished writing it, you should have at least done the reading by now. Let me know if you need any help with outlining or anything. And you know I'll be glad to proofread your essays for you, if you feel the need.

Sincerely,

Hermione."

Harry frowned and tapped the letter against his fingers. Hermione's comment about Muggles having to be ingenious sounded rather sarcastic to him. He hoped he was just imaging things. He didn't like to think of Hermione getting bitter over how some Wizarding folk treated Muggles.

He tried out the ink and found it was a sepia tone. The brown ink on cream paper looked very… color coordinated… he thought. Then he shrugged and made a mental note to not use this with Ron. He could just imagine Ron's reaction to fashion forward ink and paper. Well, there was always Hermione, Sirius and even Ginny to write to, he supposed. Speaking of writing to Hermione…

__

"Dear Hermione,

Thanks for writing. Thanks for the stationery, I didn't think to buy any and I'm tired of scrounging around for scraps to write on. Blodwen is a beautiful bird, and very well behaved. She and Hedwig get along nicely. No, I have no idea where her name came from (other than the obvious that it looks rather Welsh-ish). No, I haven't even started on the reading for Binn's essay. I was starting with Snape's, which will take the longest and be the most disgusting. Unlike some people I can mention, I can't read two books at the same time (one with either eye) while writing two different essays (one with either hand.) ((By the way, do you know where Hedwig's name comes from?))

Blodwen doesn't sound like a goblin name, though. So I'm hoping that the essay deals with something nice like owls rather than another gruesome goblin uprising or a bloody border dispute.

And how are you doing? Your comment about how ingenious Muggles have to be sounded like you were a bit put off with the Wizarding world in general. Not that I can blame you, what with how you've been treated by Snape and Malfoy and Rita Skeeter and all those idiots who sent you nasty letters last year. But I am worried. I'd hate for your summer to be as bad as mine.

Sorry, I can't help you on the Ron front. I have a guess about what's eating him, but I won't make it. It's not my place to speculate on that topic. Besides, I don't think you'd believe me and I'm tired of people calling me a liar. (Which you did, when you assumed that I wouldn't tell you the truth about how I am.)"

Which brought him all too quickly to the topic he'd have rather avoided.

__

"I can't tell you how I am. I don't really know. Sorry, but if there are words to describe what I'm feeling, I don't know them. You'll have to settle for 'No, I'm not fine, but I could be worse.'

He stared at the parchment for a long time, then gave up. There was nothing he could think of to say to allay Hermione's worries. He wasn't fine and he wasn't sure he'd ever be fine.

__

"Anyway, please cut Ron a little slack. This summer isn't going well for anybody and he is genuinely concerned about you, even if he's not phrasing himself properly.

Your friend, Harry"

He attached the letter to Blodwen's leg and stroked her feathers. She bobbed her head at him and took off through the window.

Ron at the Burrow:

Ron wandered into the garden and slumped under a tree, scattering his books and writing equipment. He didn't want to write another stupid essay about some practical use for dragon bile. Lovely, all that work for that git Snape would be wasted anyway. Snape never graded Gryffindor papers fairly. (The only way Hermione could get less than 100% was if she tried, or had her paper graded by Snape.) 

"If Hermione can't get a good grade, I might as well have you dance all over the parchment," he said to Hedwig. "You'd probably get a better grade." Hedwig landed on the ground and blinked at him expectantly. '_Maybe she thinks I should say that to Hermione_,' Ron thought. He sighed. He doubted Hermione cared what he thought.

"Right," he said with forced cheerfulness. "I should write that letter to Harry right now, so you can get on your way."

Hedwig hooted softly and Ron stroked her feathery breast. "You're lucky, you know? You can just fly into Harry's window any time you please. I have to _wait _to see him." He really wanted to see Harry right now, and not just because he was worried about the prat. He picked up his quill and sighed. "What should I say?" he asked the owl. _"Dear Harry, come and save me?"_

Hedwig cocked her head at him.

"Yeah, not very informative, is it?" Ron sighed. "It's just that… well, everybody's fighting! Mum and the twins are always arguing about what they're going to do after they leave Hogwarts. And Percy's buying into Fudge's denials, now he and Dad are always… well, it gets cold when they're both in the same room at the same time. The family clock actually froze up the other day. Now, instead pointing to things like 'traveling', 'at work', or 'at home', everybody's hands point to 'At a Crux.'" He sighed. 

"I wish Harry was here, then at least I wouldn't have to worry about how those Muggle relatives are treating him. And I'd have somebody to talk to and…" He sighed again. Then picked up his quill with resolve and started writing.

__

"Dear Harry, you stupid prat, why'd you go and send Ginny a cat? You'll only give her ideas!" 

He stared at the words for a few minutes, then looked at Hedwig. "There's the ticket." he said. "Everybody's mad, why not upset Harry, too?" 

Ron sighed, picked up the eraser and froze. He'd borrowed it from Hermione sometime last term and had forgotten to return it. He looked at it mournfully and wondered if he should return it now. She probably thought he'd deliberately stolen it. He replaced the eraser in his bag and ripped up the parchment. 

Hedwig hooted, as if puzzled.

Ron got up. "Might as well degnome the garden," he said. He went at the chore with almost savage intensity and gnomes flew a remarkable distance from the wall. Too bad the Fred and George weren't here to see the PROPER way to degnome a garden. Usually, twins would be out there, working off some infraction or other. Now they were spending a lot of time at Diagon Alley doing who knew what with who knew who. The last thought made him wince, who-knew-who reminded him of You Know Who and the current situation.

He was distracted from his dark thoughts when his hand suddenly felt heavy. Surprised, Ron glared down at the gnome that had sunk its teeth into the base of his thumb.

The gnome caught a look at Ron's expression and its eyes widened and it let go. "Erm, I'll just go throw myself over the wall, now," it said diffidently as it sidled away.

"Good idea," Ron said dryly as the gnome leaped over the wall and scarpered. He wondered if Pixie would like chasing gnomes the way Crookshanks would. He wondered if Pixie and Crookshanks would get along. He wondered if Hermione would like him better if he gave Crookshanks a few treats. He wondered why all trains of thought lead to Hermione. He wished Harry was there, then at least he'd have somebody to talk about Hermione to. Until then… back to the letter.

He read to Hedwig as he wrote. _"Dear Harry, I guess Ginny will probably write and thank you for the cat, but I'll say thanks, too. Pixie is the only good thing that's happened so far this summer. Everybody's arguing. Percy believes Fudge when he says that You Know Who isn't back. Dad believes you when you say he is. Being in the same room with the two of them is like being in Potions with hung-over Slytherins and Snape with a toothache, only not as nice. The twins got a stack of galleons to start their joke shop with and Mum's having fits trying to find out where they got it. Not to mention that she's still on about them joining the ministry. Not to mention that she's still ragging on Bill and Charlie for not having wives yet. Not to mention…"_

He paused, then plunged into the heart of the matter. _"Hermione's not talking to me." _He could think of a dozen things to add to this bald statement. How the whole world had turned into a murky, senseless, brutal place. But really, what more could he say? Harry would understand, Ron hoped. Or maybe there was something more he should say.

He stared at the parchment for a long time before giving up and sending it off to Harry.

Harry at Privet Drive:

It was later that same hot, muggy July afternoon when Petunia Evans Dursley decided it was time for her to clean the attic out. She climbed up the stairs and into something very reminiscent of a blast furnace. Obviously, it was time for _Potter _to clean out the attic. She headed downstairs again and barged into Dudley's extra bedroom without knocking.

She paused just inside the doorway and scowled. That disgusting bird was sitting on a perch, rather than being properly confined to a cage. Dudley's extra desk was strewn with papers, feathers, bottles and books. She snorted. "So, this is how you repay our many kindnesses to you, by working your…"

Harry turned his cat-green eyes on her, causing her to falter for a moment. A surge of anger let her continue. "By exercising your unnatural appetites on Dudley's furniture!"

Harry leaned his forearms on the desk and waited for his aunt to finish. He had long ago given up hope of hearing rational comments from his relatives, but this seemed a bit incoherent, even for her. When she paused for breath, he jumped in. "I'm writing an essay about using dragon bile to rid a kitchen of rats, cockroaches and poltergeists. I don't care how unnatural you say I am, that doesn't sound _at all _appetizing."

Petunia opened her mouth, then gaped for a moment. She didn't know if dragons or poltergeists actually existed, and she really didn't care to find out. "Don't smart mouth me, boy," she snapped. "You've been having it easy this summer, but don't think that will last long. I need the attic cleaned out, now."

"In this heat?" Harry said. Petunia was glad to hear genuine dismay in his tone.

"I said, now!"

"I'll die of heat poisoning!"

"I said, don't smart mouth…"

"Do you know what happens a wizard's body when he dies?" Harry asked.

Petunia paused. She hadn't gone to her sister's funeral, so she had no idea if anything strange had happened to Lily's body. The boy was probably bluffing… but it was better to not take chances. "In the evening, then, when it's cooler. I just want it done before your Uncle Vernon and my precious Duddy-kins get back from their camping trip."

"Yes, ma'm," Harry said. He managed to keep his amusement off his face, but he was afraid some of it leaked into his voice, because his aunt gave him a dirty look. He knew darn well his uncle and cousin had gone to a fat farm. He'd seen the postcards with the return address.

"You'll have no breakfast in the morning if you haven't made a good start on the project tonight."

"What, exactly, do you want me to do?" Harry asked with forced patience. "I take it you don't want me deciding what to throw out, do you?"

Petunia frowned, but he had a point. "Start by cleaning up," she said. "And carrying down the old newspapers and magazines that are piled up there. We don't need them any more."

"Yes, ma'm," Harry said with passable meekness. 

Petunia had to have the last word as she left. "Dudley's extra bedroom had better be spotless by the time you go to bed or you won't have any breakfast."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes at Hedwig. "Bet me that she finds some reason to withhold breakfast no matter how hard I work."

Hedwig obligingly coughed up the remains of her last meal. Harry raised an eyebrow. "A mouse it is," and he laid the dead mouse from Dudley's broken computer next to the barely recognizable corpse. Hedwig gave an indignant hoot. Harry shrugged. "Face it, I can't eat your mouse, either, even if I do have unnatural appetites."

Hedwig snubbed him for the rest of the day.

Author's Notes:

Bucky, Aftertaste of a Razorblade, HiBob, Kristi, Daphne Black, gray frog, Luna Rose and Phoenix Child, bluemeanies – Thanks! I'll be updating this faster now that I have an idea of where to go with this.

Lunarian – Thanks for saying which parts worked best. At the moment, Harry doesn't have much of a choice about being subservient. The Dursleys are in charge. However, I notice that he's less browbeaten with every book. I think the Dursleys will come to regret their treatment of him. (Though actually I think part of this is to contrast Harry's reaction to being mistreated to how Tom Riddle reacted. Harry is a kind person who doesn't like to see people get bullied. Tom became a bully himself.)

Lady Norbert – Thanks! Sorry, I'm having trouble with 'A Sirius Situation'. I'm trying to write it as a classic who-dunnit, and I'm having problems. I'm hoping to have it finished someday. We'll see.

Kelly the Maiden, Silver Arrow – Thanks! As you can see, I'm a Harry/Ginny shipper, too. (And I love cats!)

littlepeaches – Your story was cute.

maidmarian62 – Thanks for the review and for saying what parts you particularly liked!

MoNmOn – Thanks! Well, Petunia called the cat 'Missy', but Harry decided he liked Pixie better.

RogueAngel – Glad you like it! Yes, there will be more. I'm half-way through chapter four right now!

Chary – Thanks for the kind words about my writing! I'm glad you like how I portray these characters. I think Harry's known Ron long enough to guess what his reactions are going to be. 

Ozma – Thanks! I'm glad the characterization worked for you. Yes, I think there has to be a little more to Petunia than what's been shown. Yes, Harry does have a serious case of Nobility, doesn't he? I like the Weasleys, one point of this story is to compare/contrast how the Dursleys react to things versus how the Weasleys react. (I wonder if anybody here remembers the old 'Goofus and Gallant' from Highlights for Children?)


	3. Dust Bunny Evening

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  


  
Chapter Three: Dust Bunny Evening

  
  
Ginny and Molly in the Attic:  
  
The advantage of living in a Wizarding household was that the ministry had a hard time spotting underage magic in wizarding households. At least, they did with the current monitoring setup. This is why the twins were able to get away with their constant experimenting, why they could get away with practicing their Quidditch, and why Ginny could help her mother clean the attic without wearing her fingers to the bone. Children in Muggle households, like Harry and Hermione were more likely to get caught using underage magic. Harry was especially under close watch (otherwise, such a small incident as a levitating pudding would never have been noticed.)  
  
Ginny sighed. Why did all roads lead to Harry? He wasn't interested in her _that _way. He probably never will be, she thought glumly. The thought made her attack the cleaning chore with unusual ferocity.  
  
"Easy, Ginny!" Molly said, waving her wand to condense the cloud of dust into a manageable shape and size.  
  
"Sorry, Mum," Ginny sighed.  
  
"If you want to talk about it, I'm always willing to listen," Molly said gently.  
  
"What makes you think there's something bothering me?" Ginny sulked at her mother's easy reading of her.  
  
Molly cleared her throat. "You're scaring the dust bunnies."  
  
Ginny looked around as the dust bunnies scuttled for shelter, Pixie hard on their heels, and sighed. "Well, there's _this boy_," she said, turning away so she didn't have to see her Mum's knowing smile. Like her Mum didn't know who '_this boy_' was. Like the entire Weasley family didn't know who '_this boy_' was. Like, thanks to that _bloody_, _stupid _singing Valentine three years ago, and her following '_this boy_' around school like a _bloody_, brainless pull toy, all of _bloody _Hogwarts didn't _bloody _know who '_this **BLOODY **boy _' was. Ginny sighed again.  
  
"Boys _do_ have that effect on girls," Molly said wisely. "The only consoling thought for that is that girls also have that effect on boys."  
  
_Unfortunately, the girl that has that effect on The Boy Who Lived is _NOT_ Virgina Margaret Weasley._ "That's easy for _you _to say," Ginny huffed. "_You're_ married!   
  
"I wasn't _born _married, and, old as I may seem to you, I didn't have an arranged marriage. Although, the older I get, the more I could make a case for them," she added darkly.  
  
Ginny could tell her Mum was thinking about her _still unmarried _oldest brothers, so she decided to get her Mum's mind off that. "What? You'd sell me off to the highest bidder?" she said in an awkward attempt to lighten both their moods.  
  
"I suspect you wouldn't mind, if that bidder was Harry Potter, now would you?" Molly teased.  
  
Ginny gaped. "In my dreams," she finally said. "All Harry sees me as is Ron's cute, ickle sister." She felt like screaming, or cursing. She settled for yet another sigh as she began coaxing dust bunnies out from under the furniture.  
  
It wasn't that easy with Pixie chasing them, so Ginny put Pixie on top of an old trunk so she could see out one of the tiny windows. "Look, there's ickle Ronnie-kins degnoming the garden, Pixie. Isn't that amazing? He's actually working!"  
  
Pixie sneezed, then settled down to watch Ron. Ginny went back to herding dust bunnies.  
  
Molly sneezed as she hexed cobwebs from the ceiling. Probably just as well Ron hadn't come up yet. He still had problems with spiders. Molly was inured to them. After years of having them dropped down her collar by her older brothers, she'd built up an immunity to them. Pity her brothers had never built up a similar indifference to cockroaches… pity for them, that is. 

Back to her daughter, now. "You know, I had boy problems just like yours… well, they weren't _exactly_ like yours, but they similar and they seemed insurmountable at the time."  
  
Ginny sneezed as she urged the dust bunnies into a bag so she could release them outside. "You did?"  
  
Molly sighed. "Yes, there was, as you say, '_this boy_' that I was very fond of. Unfortunately, to _him_, I was merely 'the little girl who lived down the lane'."  
  
Ginny was forced to grin. "Did _'this boy'_ of yours have red hair, by any chance?" she asked.  
  
"Why, how ever did you guess?" Molly asked, wide-eyed in mock astonishment.   
  
"You have a thing for redheads… and blonds," Ginny said with a teasing smile. 

Now it was Molly's turn to sigh. She knew it would be YEARS before she lived down the whole Gilderoy Lockhart… thing. At least all of his text books and advice books had fetched a good price at the second hand book store.

"So, did _you _have competition?" Ginny asked.  
  
Molly sighed. "Oh, yes, serious competition. I thought I was doomed."  
  
"Let me guess, she was the Ravenclaw Seeker," Ginny tried, and failed, not to be sour. Cho Chang couldn't help it if she were intelligent, talented AND beautiful. Not that Ginny expected Cho Chang to go out of her way to avoid being all those things.  
  
"Worse," Molly said darkly. "She was a…" Molly paused dramatically. "Muggle-born."  
  
"Oh, no!" Ginny squealed, knowing how her father felt about All Things Muggle.  
  
"Worse, her parents were… _imagineers_," Molly went on. "She knew all sorts of things about _eccentricity_ and _machinations_ and _gidgets_!" Molly used the muggle terms like they were swear words.  
  
"That sort of stuff doesn't work at Hogwarts, though," Ginny said, stifling a snicker, or maybe it was a sneeze. It was hard to tell.  
  
"Oh, the advanced extra-tonics don't work at Hogwarts, but things like watches, cameras, fountain pens, and wind up toys work fine. Melissa was _forever _giving Arthur some trinket or other that would have him goggle-eyed for weeks." Now it was Molly's turn to sigh. "All I could do was knit."  
  
"Mufflers versus machines," Ginny said, her brown eyes held equal portions of sympathy and amusement. "Poor Mum."  
  
"Thank you for your _kind _sympathy," Molly said dryly. "My cup runneth under."  
  
"Well, you obviously won," Ginny pointed out.  
  
Molly grinned. "I had an unexpected ally come fifth year. Who would have ever guessed that Jack Frost did piece work for Cupid?"  
  
Ginny raised a coppery eyebrow and waited for an explanation.  
  
"It was the _coldest _winter Hogwarts had seen in four centuries," Molly said solemnly. "The common rooms and the great hall had beautiful roaring fires, but you could see your breath everywhere else in the castle. Even the dorm rooms were freezing. I can't remember how many people set their bed curtains on fire trying to keep warm. Even Melissa managed that one." Her eyes half closed with dreamy bliss as she replayed _that _particular fiasco in her mind's eye. "I had to put it out for her."  
  
Ginny giggled, her Mum had the same expression on her face that Ron got every time he mentioned '_Draco, the amazing bouncing ferret_.' Obviously, Ron's vindictive streak came from the distaff side of the family. "And there you were, with your knitted jumpers, knitted mufflers, knitted mittens…" she prompted.  
  
"Oh, yes, I was rather popular that winter," Molly said with exaggerated modesty. Both Weasley women started snickering.  
  
"I can believe that!" Ginny managed at last. "I _hate _being cold!"  
  
"You get that from your father. He became my biggest customer that year. He even massaged my hands when they got too cold and stiff to knit."  
  
Ginny thought the idea of her father massaging her mother's hands was sweet. "How did you manage that?" she asked.  
  
"Welllll…" Molly hesitated, just a trifle. "Your father's stuff had this tendency to go astray. So he really needed my hands to be in top condition to keep him kitted out properly."  
  
This time, both of Ginny's eyebrows went up. "Realllly?" she drawled, drawing the word out as she eyed her mother speculatively.  
  
"Really…" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Well, they had a _little _help," Molly admitted. She held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate how little help the clothing had in getting lost.  
  
Ginny waited.   
  
The distance between thumb and forefinger grew, until Molly admitted. "Well! It wasn't _my _fault that my cat, Hermes, was a little sneak thief!"  
  
"Wasn't Hermes the patron god of thieves as well as messengers?" Ginny asked slyly. She tilted her head and gave her mother a sidelong look from beneath her almost colorless eyelashes.  
  
"Well, it wasn't _entirely _my fault…" Molly realized that Ginny wasn't buying this, either, so she laughed and confessed. "All right, I spent all of fourth year teaching that cat to target his socks and mittens!"  
  
Ginny threw her arms around her. "MUM!" she said, trying to sound scandalized, but she was laughing too hard to pull it off. She leaned against her mother for a few minutes until she could bring herself under control. Then the sighing began again. "I don't think that it'll be that easy to capture Harry's attention," she said.  
  
"Easy? You call that _easy_?" Molly said in mock outrage. Then she shook her head. "It might not be as hard as you think," she said encouragingly, stroking her daughter's hair.  
  
Ginny was puzzled.  
  
"Harry _did _send you that cat," Molly pointed out. "He does _like _you."  
  
"I know, but he… well, he doesn't like me _that_ way, you know?"  
  
"You need to get him to see you as a person besides Ron's ickle sister, then," Molly said.  
  
"How?" Ginny asked mournfully, pulling away. "I can't even carry on a coherent conversation with him. I always wind up making a total fool of myself."  
  
"That is a problem," Molly said thoughtfully, squeezing Ginny's shoulder. "But, where there's a will, there's a way." She turned away and started on the cobwebs again. They cleaned in silence for a while, until they'd both had enough.  
  
"Ginny, maybe you should try writing to him," Molly suggested as they packed up. "The poor boy is lonely and letters don't blush and stammer." She paused, then added. "Besides, you _do _owe him a thank you note for Pixie."  
  
Ginny looked at her mother and blinked. Suddenly her eyes were full of something… dust, tears or maybe astonishment. "Good idea," she said, a little huskily. "I'll start right away."  
  
  
  
And How is Hermione's Summer Progressing?  
  
"Boys are born prats, discuss."  
  
"Interesting premise for an essay," Rupert Granger's voice was amused as he burst into his daughter's room.  
  
"Dad!" squealed Hermione, sitting up so fast she almost fell off the bed. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"  
  
Rupert sat down on the edge of his daughter's bed and stroked her fluffy chestnut hair. "Ooo, or what happens? I get turned into a frog?" He was vastly curious about his daughter's life as a witch. He particularly wanted to see that frog trick done, too. So Hermione had promised that, as soon as she could legally perform magic outside of Hogwarts, she would show him that 'hoary old trick'.  
  
"Sorry, Dad, no can do for another two years," Hermione said regretfully.   
  
"Ah, then we'll have to find another way to amuse ourselves," Mr. Granger said. "How about a good gossip session?" He ran his hand over his close-cropped, chestnut hair. Given a chance, it would have been every bit as wild as his daughter's. Which is exactly why it was given no chance at all. Rupert Granger was one of the few men who ever wistfully thought of male pattern baldness.  
  
"Dad!" Hermione crossed her arms and glared.  
  
"I'm dying to know which boy has caught your fancy enough that he's driving you to write fiery romantic essays about him."  
  
"DAD!"  
  
"We've _already_ established my paternity, Hermione," Mr. Granger said. He bounced on the bed a few times. "Now, on to the juicy stuff!"  
  
"Dad, you're teasing me!"  
  
"I had noticed."  
  
"You're only giving me more proof for my hypothesis."  
  
"Sorry." Rupert Granger managed to keep a straight face for several minutes before speaking again. "So, which boy is it? Viktor, Ron or Harry?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "Ron is being a _complete _prat about our trip to Bulgaria. You'd think that Viktor wanted to… to…"  
  
"Take advantage of you?" Mr. Granger asked slyly. "Are you sure he doesn't?"  
  
"DAAAAD!" shrieked Hermione. She grabbed her pillow and slugged him a few times. "You're as bad as Ron! Viktor and I are only friends!"  
  
"Ah, but that doesn't mean that Viktor _wants _to be only friends," Mr. Granger pointed out. "You were the thing he'd miss the most, if you recall."  
  
Hermione blushed and stared down at her pillow. "I do like him, but not like that," she said. "Am I leading him on?" She looked worriedly at her father.  
  
Mr. Granger gave that one some serious thought. "I think that as long as you're honest with him about how you feel, no." His brown eyes studied his daughter gravely. "So, Ron doesn't want you to go to Bulgaria. What does Harry have to say?"  
  
"Not a lot," Hermione sighed. "He's not been very, erm, communicative lately."  
  
"Maybe he's jealous, too?"  
  
"Oh, Merlin, no," Hermione made a face. "In fact, it's the other way around."  
  
Mr. Granger raised an eyebrow. "You're jealous of Harry?"  
  
"NO!" Hermione elaborated. "Poor Harry. He can't do anything without attracting a ton of attention. Anyway, all during the Tournament last year there were all these stupid gossip columns about Harry and some of them linked us romantically and I think Viktor is jealous of Harry, even though I keep _telling_ him that Harry and I are just friends… what's so funny?" she demanded.  
  
"Sorry," Mr. Granger managed. "It's just that I never expected my bookworm daughter to suddenly turn into a femme fatale!"  
  
"Da-ad!" yelped Hermione, and she hit him with the pillow again for good measure. "You are im-pos-sible!"  
  
"You're Mum's been telling me that for years," Mr. Granger said. "But look at it from my point of view. It's a soap opera… do Wizards have soap operas? Anyway, Ron is jealous of Viktor, who is jealous of Harry, who is jealous of… whom? Ron? Or is there another prat of a boy that I should know about?"  
  
"Harry's not interested in me that way," Hermione insisted. "He's interested in the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. Or he was, I'm not sure. He feels guilty about Cedric's death."  
  
Mr. Granger looked lost.  
  
"Cedric was Cho's boyfriend."  
  
"Poor Harry," Mr. Granger said soberly. "Seems like he gets extra helpings of every problem known to adolescent, doesn't he?"  
  
Hermione dropped the pillow. "And gets it in the public eye," she sighed.  
  
"So, what are you going to do about the situation?" Mr. Granger said.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe I'll write an essay about how all boys are bloody prats."  
  
Mr. Granger snorted, grabbed up the discarded pillow and whacked his daughter with it.   
  
Hermione automatically reached for her wand, when there was a tap at her window. "Oh, good, Harry's written back already," she said. She opened the window and Blodwen flew in and perched on a chair.  
  
"I'll go fix the far traveler a bite to eat, then," Mr. Granger said. He remembered his own adolescence quite well and knew when to make a strategic withdrawal.  
  
Hermione untied the letter quickly, allowing Blodwen to follow Mr. Granger down the stairs. Emma Granger, seeing this, vowed to buy herself a video camera as soon as possible.  
  
Hermione frowned as she read Harry's letter. She needed to talk to him, but how to get past the draconian Dursleys? 

***

  
  
Author's Notes:

__

Imagineers are those clever people at Disneyland who design the rides and special effects.

Nightw2 – Thanks for the compliments on my writing! It's not too late to become a Harry Potter fan! First movie is on video and DVD, second movie is still in theaters. The books are at the library, if you want to take them for a spin before you buy them.

Gily – Thanks! Ginny's first letter is in the next chapter!

Lan, Erik, MoNmOn, Female Fred – Thanks for the kind words! I'll try to be faster with the updates!

Imp – Yes, this is most definitely HP/GW ;-) And RW/HG. Not to mention that I'm eventually planning to get others involved in Romance. (Neville needs a girlfriend, in my opinion.)

Ozma – Hi, Pardner! Thanks for the long review! I like the Weasleys, as you can tell. I would a hundred times rather be a member of the Weasley family than a member of the Dursleys or the Malfoys. Thanks for telling me what parts worked especially well for you. I think that Molly is feeling a lot of stress right now. Her family is at odd with each other and that has got to hurt her. Plus, she's worried about Harry. There's a reason she was selected to come to the Tournament as Harry's 'family.'

Yes, Hermione has had some nasty experiences at the hands of bigots. (Did you notice Arthur Weasley chatting with the Grangers in the movie? That's one of my favorite parts. I wonder if he asked them about rubber duckies?) Grin Oh, yes, Miss Hermione has a _darn_ good reason for the perfume on the letter, but it's _not_ what she's led Harry to believe! 

Yes, Petunia is rather handicapped when it comes to a battle of wits, isn't she? 

Yes, both Dudley and Vernon need to lose weight, but especially Dudley. There are just too many horrible things that can happen – heart problems, diabetes, etc. The Dursleys have not done Dudley a favor by being so indulgent of his whims.

Yep, there's a reason for both Harry and Ginny being in their attics, it's called 'Chapter Five.'

Chary – Thanks! I see I've missed an update on 'Beloved on this Earth.' Got to catch up on my reviewing! Glad the characterization worked for you. I figure that Ron would have a hard time getting to his real problem. Not that the other things weren't problems, but the Hermione situation is one that Harry might actually be able to help him with. No, it's NOT a coincidence that Harry and Ginny are both working on cleaning the attic. Among other things, I wanted to show the contrast between how Molly handles the situation and how Petunia does.

Pseudonym Sylphmuse – Thanks! I'm hoping that I'll be quicker on the updates. I have a lot of ground I want to cover and I want to get most of it out before J.K. puts out the next book! (Since I'll probably contradict lots of what she does…) Your stories are a lot of fun, too!


	4. Night Owl

  
A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  
  
Chapter Four: Night Owl

  
  
  
Harry and Petunia:  
  
It was the kind of evening just made for sitting on the porch, sipping on a lovely beverage. Much as Petunia missed Vernon and her Duddy-kins, Petunia was glad for a little time to herself. As she mixed up a batch of lemonade, she mused over the fact that she could get far more cleaning done since cooking for one made meal time a great deal simpler.  
  
Overhead, she heard a squawk from her nephew's dratted owl. She looked at the lemonade and made a face. The brat would probably help himself, unless she forbade him explicitly. She hadn't been cooking for the brat, of course. Why should she? He was old enough to fend for himself. She resented the idea that he might have some of the lemonade, however cheap and easy to fix it was.  
  
She decided to pour him one glass. That would keep him from drinking the rest. He knew better by now than to try to steal food. She went up to his room to tell him to start to work on the attic, but he wasn't there. The room looked a little better, though. She frowned and wondered where he was. He wasn't in the front room, or the bathroom. She went up to the attic to find that he'd already made noticeable progress on the dust and cobwebs.  
  
Petunia snorted. "Don't think you're coming into the kitchen when you're that dirty," she snapped.  
  
Potter gave her a patient look. "I thought you wanted me to get started on this as soon as it was cool enough," he said.  
  
Petunia glared at him, then something in his eyes made her back down. "I'll bring your dinner up here," she huffed. "Just don't leave crumbs all over. I don't want to attract rats." She was gratified that the brat actually shivered at that. At least he had _some _normal feelings.  
  
She frowned when she got to the kitchen. What would be the quickest and easiest dinner? There really wasn't much at hand, Dudley was still on a diet. Petunia grabbed some slices of the cantaloupe that her Dinky-Dud'ums had proclaimed 'inedible' and put them on a plate. What else? Well, she hadn't liked this diet bread, no point in wasting it.  
  
She carried the plate and the glass of lemonade upstairs, feeling she was being quite generous to the ingrate. She frowned when she didn't find him in the attic. And she placed the plate and glass on a shoddy old trunk that she didn't remember. "Potter? Where are you?"   
  
She jumped when he answered from behind her. "Sorry, I just went to wash up." He held up his hands, as if for inspection. Petunia just glared at him. "Don't smart off to me, boy," she said, for what seemed like the thousandth time that week. She marched off with a snort to see what the neighbors were up to. A faint memory flickered across her mind. Lily had owned a spyglass that had been able to see around corners… it would have been nice to own something… she stopped that train of thought with a shudder of horror when she realized she'd almost wished for _magic_, of all things. How disgusting. Maybe she should add a shot of gin to her lemonade. Yes, that _would _make a lovely beverage.  
  
Harry sighed, then encouraged himself with the thought that he'd be of age in two years, After that, he needn't see the Dursleys again. He made a wry face. 'Assuming I'm still alive then,' he added to himself. He wondered where he would go after Hogwarts. Maybe he could get a job in Hogsmeade, or better yet, at Hogwarts. He should apply for the DADA position. Merlin knew he'd had enough practice, and the job would almost certainly be open by then.  
  
Of course, that would mean he'd have to work with Snape. Harry made a face. "Now there's a thought to ruin one's appetite," he muttered. Not that ruining his appetite was hard to do nowadays. He kept getting stomach aches like the summer Dobby had been stopping his mail and he'd thought that everybody had forgotten him. He squeezed his eyes shut. If _only _he'd taken Dobby's advice and hadn't gone back to Hogwarts, then Cedric would still be alive. Voldemort wouldn't have come back… It was all his fault…   
  
The 'spasm', as he termed them, passed slowly. He wiped his eyes and hoped his aunt wouldn't catch him looking like this. Not that his aunt would care, or even notice, that he'd been crying. She spent most of a decade ignoring his tears. Harry bit the insides of his cheek. The Dursleys didn't want him. He knew that, there was no point in even wondering why any more. Back to reality. Just keep going on, one day at a time and hope that… that he could continue to live with what he'd done to Cedric.  
  
At least he had appropriate food for his mood. He eyed his 'magnificent feast' wryly. The good thing about this diet food is that it looked inoffensive enough to eat. He nibbled on his fruit and fake bread as he wrote back to Ron. A couple of hours and several drafts later, he managed something that didn't sound whiney or depressed.  
  
_"Dear Ron,   
  
Here's the letter I promised. I had to write to Ginny first because the cat was in trouble. That batty old Mrs. Figg that I told you about got a cat, but the new cat didn't get along with her other cats, so, for reasons unknown, she gave her to my Aunt Petunia. (I told you she was batty!) Anyway, Uncle Vernon and Dudley are allergic, so Petunia couldn't keep her.  
  
When Uncle Vernon saw the cat, he almost had a fit. I thought he might actually hit my aunt or something. Fortunately (for my aunt), I opened my big mouth, so my uncle decided that it was my cat. I convinced him that the cat was actually a pixie, hence the name. Yes, I know Pixie doesn't look anything like a pixie. I may forget a lot between school terms, but Lockhart's Freshly Caught Cornish Pixies aren't something that will fade from my mind anytime soon! (Why is it I can remember all the stuff I'd rather forget, but the stuff I need for exams just fades from my mind?) Anyway, it was the first thing that came to mind and it's not like my uncle would know a pixie from Lockhart anyway.  
  
The weird thing is, the cat carrier was a gift from my Aunt Petunia. It's the most she's spent on a present for me ever. I hope Ginny likes it. Anyway, tell her that I said 'Hi' and that the cat carrier is hers to keep. (I don't need it, I don't have a cat.)  
  
I'm sorry that you and Hermione have had a falling out. She didn't sound mad at you in her last letter to me, just frustrated. We both know she likes you, right? So, here's a few suggestions…  
  
One: stop carping about Viktor Krum.  
  
Two: stop complaining about Hermione's upcoming trip to Bulgaria. She's not going to marry him, for God's sake. Besides, she'll have her parents along as chaperones. And, from what she said in her last letter to me, Viktor's whole family will be there, too. Apparently, the whole courting…"   
_  
Harry paused, and decided not to go there, then he rubbed that out with the eraser Hermione had owled him. He made a mental note to buy her a stack of replacements when he got to Diagon Alley.   
  
_"All boy/girl interactions are as carefully monitored as Snape's Dragon Decongestant Potion," _he wrote instead. _"Three: shut UP about Viktor Krum already. We get the point! You don't like the idea of Viktor courting Hermione. Repeating yourself won't convince her. All it will do is to get her too mad to speak to you.   
  
Four: TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT HER! That will at least get her mind off Viktor Krum. Remember, you'll be at Hogwarts with her for ten months. Viktor will only have ten days to make his case. You have the home advantage, USE IT!!"  
_  
Harry sighed. What else could he say to help? He wished he could talk to them. At the very least, he could mediate. A sudden thought struck him and he added: _"Five: ask Ginny for help, she's as clever as Hermione and could probably give you some tips on how to get Hermione talking to you again."  
  
"Good luck, 'Romeo',  
  
Harry."  
  
"PS -- ENOUGH ABOUT VIKTOR KRUM ALREADY!!!"  
_  
Harry grinned for the first time in days. He could _just _picture Ron's red face when he read that sign off! He paused, wondering if Ron had ever heard of Romeo and Juliet. He added quotes around the name 'Romeo' to show that, yes, he did remember what Ron's name was. Even if Ron didn't get the reference, it would confuse and annoy him. Feeling somewhat more like himself, Harry tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and sent her off.  
  
A second later, he lunged toward the window and whistled Hedwig back. The snowy owl flapped back into the window, looking put out.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I just thought of something." Carefully, he unfastened the letter from Hedwig's leg and added. _"PS -- Romeo, that's a muggle reference. Ask Hermione if you don't know it." _He grinned. Then he added his real after thought. _"P.P.S. -- It's a shame, no a CRIME, to leave my Firebolt in the cupboard all summer. Even if I can't come over, there's no reason I can't send it over for you to practice on, if you want to borrow it. You can use it for the Quidditch tryouts, too, unless Hooch objects." -- H.  
_  
He retied the letter. "There, that'll make him feel better."   
  
Hedwig didn't move.  
  
"Go on, then," Harry urged her.  
  
Hedwig gave him a severe look.  
  
"Honest! I'm finished!"  
  
Hedwig made a grumpy sound, turned abruptly and soared out the window.  
  
Harry watched her leave and sighed. "I have such a way with the ladies," he murmured.   
  
  
Ginny Tables Her Thoughts:  
  
"Mum, what should I say to Harry?" she asked, sitting at the table and kicking her legs. She fidgeted with the stacks of travel brochures that her Dad had brought home from work. She loved to travel and was a little envious of Hermione's trip to Bulgaria. She wondered if Bulgaria was anything like Romania.  
  
"The best way to deal with a relationship is to just be honest. The poor lamb needs somebody he can confide in, and I don't see why it can't be you." With that, she bustled into the next room to work on some charms.  
  
Ginny frowned at the unhelpful advice. "Okay, honest, like _'Dear Harry, thanks for the cat. I love her and I love you, too. Let's get married.'_" She had to laugh at that. 'Oh, way to convince the world you're over your silly schoolgirl crush on the Boy Who Lived,' she told herself. She sighed. 'Well, it's a crush, everybody knows that. And, guess what, I _am _a schoolgirl. Guess the only aspect I have any control over is the silly part… at least, I hope I have control over that. I wonder if I could have an intelligent and sophisticated crush on Harry?'  
  
She tried again. "_Dear Harry_", (true, but standard enough to be safe). "_Thank you_…" (Very much? So much? Better not gush. Leave it at thank you.) "…_for the cat. Pixie is adorable_." (Would you be embarrassed if I said you were, too? Probably, I think only Mum can get away with that.) "_I can't wait until Dumbledore decides it's safe enough for you to visit us._" (Is that too eager? Well, I guess it's safe enough, since we ALL feel that way… ooo, include that!) "_I assure you that sentiment is shared by my whole family, and not just Ron. All of us who live here at the Burrow have written to Dumbledore to urge him to reconsider leaving you at the Muggles' mercy_." (If they even know what mercy is… not all Muggles, mind, just the Dursley Muggles.) "_Assuming the Dursley Muggles even know what 'mercy' is_."  
  
"_However, I'm particularly eager_" (To gape at you… _drooooooool_!) "_for you to see how happy Pixie is in her new home. She fits in_…" (Actually, she doesn't. She hasn't participated in a single argument since she's arrived.) _"… so well here. Mum and I have been cleaning out the attic and she's been having a grand time batting at dust motes and chasing dust bunnies around. Right now she's sitting in the kitchen window watching Ron in the garden as he supposedly goes about his chores and works on his summer essays_." (I'm not holding my breath, though, he's probably daydreaming about Hermione. Oh, wait, that's good. Maybe it will amuse him. Put it in.)  
  
"_I'm not holding my breath, though. My money says he's probably daydreaming about Hermione and doing as little actual work as possible_." (Unlike me, who can daydream and work at the same time. Ha!) "_They seem to have had yet another falling out. I hope they patch it up soon, poor Ron looks miserable."_ (Where did that come from? Well, it is true. I do feel sorry for Ron. The twins are being prats, though. I almost hope Mum hexes them or something.)  
  
She sighed. She was running out of things to say. Maybe she should keep the first letter short. She wondered if Harry would keep her letter the way she was planning to keep his? Probably not. Assuming of course, he even wrote back. Ginny slid off her chair and went into the living room, where Molly was working on something inside the fireplace.   
  
"Mum? What are you doing?" she asked.  
  
Molly started. "Oh, Ginny-dear, I'm just making sure that all the floo-network charms are in place," she said.   
  
Ginny's eyes went a little wide. Molly sighed and made a slight moue. "Yes, your father bought an upgrade on the security spells. We decided… well, never mind. You know what's at stake. What did you need?"  
  
Ginny stared at the chimney for a few long heartbeats, then shook herself. "How do I get Harry to write back to me?" she asked.  
  
Molly relaxed and smiled. It was nice to see that life was continuing, even under the current dark cloud. "I've always found the best way to get a return letter is to ask a question or two. Something only your correspondent can answer."  
  
"Thanks, Mum," Ginny said gratefully. "Can I have a snack?"  
  
"Yes, dear, but not too much. I'm making meat pies for dinner… oh, there's an idea. You can send Harry a meat pie with your letter. I'm sure those Muggles aren't feeding him right. The poor lamb is always skin and bones when we see him in September."  
  
"What kind of question?" Ginny asked, frowning.  
  
"Something about homework? One of the first hints I got that your father was interested in me is when he started asking me to help him with his homework."  
  
"I think that might be too obvious," Ginny replied. Seeing her mother's skeptical look, she elaborated. "I usually ask Hermione. Harry will probably figure out that I'm still crushing on him if I suddenly start asking _him_ for help."  
  
"Ah, you think he has figured out that you have a crush on him, then?" Molly asked, suppressing a smile.  
  
Ginny gave her Mum a severe look. "Mum, even _Professor Binns_ knows that I have a crush on Harry. The only way Harry could not know is if someone _oblivated _him." Ginny paused to think a second, then she added. "Or if he didn't duck a bludger quick enough."  
  
Molly had to choke back a laugh.   
  
"MUM!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Ginny, maybe a Quidditch question? That was good with most boys I talked to."  
  
"Thanks, Mum," this was accompanied by a quick hug and kiss. Ginny bounced back into the kitchen, trying to think of a question. She poured herself a bowl of Qwidditch Qwunchies (now with honey-marshmallow Snitches!) as she pondered her magnum opus. She was distracted, though. Qwidditch Qwunchies always made her think of the twins… they were the ones who had introduced her to them. When Fred and George had heard about milk baths, they decided to take the next logical step, and who better to give a Qwidditch Qwunchie bath to than their baby sister?  
  
She remembered loving it and Mum had taken a picture of it, when she could stop laughing. Ginny sniffled a little. It had been a long time since the twins had made their Mum laugh. She didn't suppose there was any point in asking for Harry about that. "Dear Harry, Mum and Dad are going nutters. Fred and George have come into money and Mum and Dad are scared that they've taken up with shady characters to get it. Could you please tell us where the money came from?"   
  
Stupid, like Harry would… know…? Ginny stared at her cereal, heedless of the escaping honey-marshmallow snitches.   
  
"Think about this logically for a minute, Weasley," she told herself. "How many people do we know have lots of money and actually like the twins enough to give them a sackful of gold?" It almost sounded logical, but not quite. "Would he give them the money to start a store and not tell the rest of us? He'd at least have told Ron, wouldn't he?" Ginny watched Pixie chase the errant honey-marshmallow snitches around as she pondered.  
  
  
Hermione: Scents and Sensibility:  
  
Rupert Granger knocked lightly on his daughter's door, then assumed the absent-minded grunt was an invitation and entered.  
  
He found his daughter resting her chin on her hands and glaring at a set of test tubes, not really something he expected a witch to work with. "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble? Bunsen burn and test tubes bubble?" he said.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, Dad, MacBeth is a Muggle work. Professor Snape would have us gutting sea slugs or something if we quoted 'The Scottish Play' at him."  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
"Because poor Lavender made that mistake once. It's the only detention the poor girl has received during her whole stay at Hogwarts. She's mortified about it, too."  
  
"Why mortified? Is she ashamed that she's lagging so far behind everybody in getting detentions?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes again. "She's mortified that Snape understood the reference. She had no idea that Shakespeare was so big in the Wizarding world."  
  
"I didn't realize it either," Rupert said.  
  
"Apparently he lived in a time when the two worlds weren't so far apart."  
  
"That would explain a lot about his play," Rupert said thoughtfully. He didn't want to think about it too much, he had his reputation to maintain. He looked around for something to tease his daughter about. "So, what potion are you working on?"  
  
"It's not a potion, I'm not allowed to do magic outside Hogwarts," Hermione said, scowling at a sheet of paper in front of her.  
  
"I wasn't sure if potions counted as magic," Rupert confessed.  
  
"They do, at least, they are included in the list of things we ought not to do," Hermione said.  
  
"So this is chemistry, then?" Rupert prodded.  
  
"Well, actually, sort of," Hermione answered with uncharacteristic vagueness.   
  
Rupert raised an eyebrow at his daughter.   
  
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure how scientific aromatherapy is," she explained.  
  
"Aromatherapy? That's not magic?" Rupert teased.   
  
Hermione shot him an annoyed look. "Dad, if you're not going to be helpful, then just leave, okay?"  
  
Rupert sighed. "You sound more like your mother every day."  
  
"Thank you," Hermione said absently. Then she sighed. "There are too many to choose from!" she said in exasperation. "There are scents to deal with anger, anxiety, depression, nervous tension, nervous exhaustion and insomnia. If I try to use to many, I'll just create a mess!"  
  
Rupert felt a little alarmed. "Are you feeling that badly?" he asked.  
  
Hermione shook her head, sending her fluffy brown hair flying in all directions. "No, it's not for me, it's for Harry!"  
  
But of course, wasn't everything for Harry? "You know, dear, if you start scent marking your letters, he's bound to get suspicious," Rupert cut his teasing short when his level-headed, calm, rational daughter burst into tears. Immediately, he sprang into 'awkward male confronted by female tears' mode. He put his arms around his daughter and began petting her, using the standard, useless phrases. "There, there, easy old girl, take it easy."  
  
Hermione pulled away. "But it isn't! It's never easy for poor Harry. Awful things keep happening to him. I want to help, but I can't even talk to him!" she sniffed and took the handkerchief that he offered. "Dad, I'm _scared_! I'm scared something horrible is going to happen to him… or to you and Mum." She was crying in earnest now, fat tears rolling down her red cheeks. "I don't want y… you or Mum to get killed! I don't want Harry to g…get killed, either!"  
  
Rupert didn't know what to do except pull his daughter into his arms and hold her. He hadn't really thought about the Wizarding war threatening his family. He knew that Hermione had been in danger. He didn't like it. He didn't like his wife being in danger. And, if you get right down to brass tacks, he didn't much like being in danger himself. "Hermione, I don't like this situation, either. I would like to talk to this Dumbledore of yours about it. So, how do we set up a conference?"  
  
Hermione, presented with a problem to solve, calmed down to her analytical self. much to her father's relief. "I can owl Dumbledore and tell him you want to talk to him," she said.   
  
"Good girl," Rupert said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "I'll tell your Mum to expect company."  
  
Hermione blew her nose. "I'll get right on it," she said. Primly, she deposited the soiled handkerchief in the laundry basket before sitting down to write to Dumbledore.  
  
  
Harry and his Homework  
  
'Well, now I know who Blodwen was,' he thought as he took notes for his History of Magic essay. 'Not any happier for knowing it, though. Witch-mom curses her Wizard-son so he can't get married to a woman from any race alive, so his Wizard -mentor creates a woman from flowers. Blodwen (meaning flower face) falls in love with another man, betrays Wizard-son and almost kills him. As punishment, she gets turned into an owl. Lovely. Pity the Wizard-mentor didn't give Blodwen a choice when it came to getting married. I wonder if all history is just people hurting each other.'  
  
He made a face. "I sound like Hermione!" he said aloud to his reflection in the mirror over Dudley's extra dresser. His reflection made no response. Harry sighed. He guessed he was supposed to side with Blodwen's husband, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for the girl. Blodwen reminded him of himself. She had no real parents. She never had anybody to look after her, or to take her side when things went wrong. She was never given any choice in her life. Harry couldn't blame her for trying to get away from an intolerable situation.  
  
"I definitely sound like Hermione," he told Hedwig's empty cage. "At least being turned into an owl isn't all bad. She was probably happier as an owl than a prisoner." He walked over to slide the window open and thought that life would be much simpler as an owl.  
  
Something hurtled through the window. Before Harry could register the assault, much less react to it, he was struck between the eyes. Then he wasn't registering or reacting to anything.  
  
  
************  
Author's Notes –   
  
Blodwen is from Welsh mythology. She was created by Gwydion and Math for Llew Llaw Gyffes.  
  
Katrina – Yep, Emma and Rupert. J.K.'s never said what Hermione's parents' names are, so I decided on the names of two of my favorite British actors. ;-) Thanks for the kind words on the banter between Hermione and her father.  
  
shdurrani – Thanks, I plan to continue!  
  
Nightw2 – Glad you like my writing. Hope you get a chance to get out more!  
  
Ian – Thanks! I'm going to try to be fast with the updates!  
  
Fancy -- Thanks! Glad you like my story! I think that Hermione's parents have to be pretty nice. They let her stay at Hogwarts when Sirius Black was on the loose. They let her stay with the Weasleys. I hope J.K. shows more of them. (Of course, I'll have to update my stories if she ever says what their names are!)  
  
MoNmOn – Thanks! I'll try to be quick with the updates!  
  
coolone007 – Thanks for the review! Good point. I expect that my stuff will all be Alternate Universe.  
  
Ozma – Thanks for reviewing, partner! (I think I owe you a review. I'll be over shortly.) ** Ginny's an intelligent girl. She realizes how her crush looks to others, yet she can't (maybe won't) give it up. ** I like Molly, too. She's always seemed sympathetic to me. However, I think the twins got their sneakiness from somewhere. ** Glad you like my portrayal of Mr. Granger.   
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse – Thanks for the compliments! Your stories are cute! I am looking forward to finding out which Weasley is addicted to strawberries, like I am. (I hope it's Ginny.) I am also looking forward to finding out which fruit Percy is addicted to. ** Maybe I should have Hermione write that essay. It could prove amusing. ** I was thinking of Draconian in the sense of 'Draconian laws', which are very severe and usually not at all fair.   
  
Chary – Thanks for the review! ** I was trying to think of why the Ministry wouldn't notice that Arthur's kids played Quidditch. But a lot of Wizarding children seem to spend a lot of time flying, so I figure that the Ministry isn't always as quick to jump on underage magic as they were in Chamber of Secrets. ** You don't have cockroaches in England? Pack my bags, honey, I'm moving! Beetles just don't have the same disgust factor as cockroaches have. I think I'll change that with the next update. What do you suggest I use instead of cockroaches. (Or should I make up something?) ** Thanks for the kind comments on Molly and Arthur's romance. I figure that there had to be some competition for both of them, but they're too perfect together for anybody else to have much of a chance. ** Glad you liked my version of Rupert. I just gave him some of my own curiosity. I know that if I had a child going to Hogwarts, I'd been quizzing them about their magical lifestyle all the time.  
  
random letters – Thanks! I'm going to try to keep going strongly! And yes, it will continue to be Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny. Maybe a few less known ships, too. (Who knows who will get together? Only Rowling does, all I can do is guess!)  
  
Doom Song – Thanks for the compliments! ** I wrote something about dust bunnies, then I realized that in a Wizarding household, these might be actual bunnies made of dust! I rather liked that mental image, so I ran with it.


	5. Fight Night

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

  
Chapter Five: Fight Night

  
  
Harry on the Floor

Harry blinked, wondering why he was sprawled out on the floor. Confused minutes later, he remembered that he was at Privet Drive, in Dudley's extra bedroom and he'd been looking out the window…  
  
He felt like something kicked him in the stomach… There was something moving in the bedroom. Something that made a soft rustling noise and emitted a deranged twittering noise. Something small, about the size of a… rat.  
  
Harry shoved himself to a sitting position, automatically reaching for the wand that was in his trunk in the cupboard under the stairs. He glanced frantically around the bedroom, looking for the source of the noise. Then, he looked… up.  
  
Seconds later, he was on his feet, shaking with rage. "PIGWIDGEON, YOU BLASTED IDIOT, THAT HURT!" He rubbed his forehead, feeling a slight stickiness there. He was not surprised when he saw that his fingers had blood on them.  
  
Moments later, Aunt Petunia was pounding on his door. "Potter, what on Earth are you going on about?" she demanded.  
  
Oliver Wood trained reflexes allowed Harry to snag Pigwidgeon from the air and shove him into Hedwig's cage. He'd apologize to her later. He started for the door as Aunt Petunia came in.   
  
"Sorry for the noise," Harry said. "But a wild owl just rammed me."   
  
Petunia frowned at his forehead, but all she said was: "Don't bleed on the carpet."  
  
Harry blinked rather owlishly at her. There was some strange odor… perfume? No, wait, it was gin. He'd never seen his aunt drink alone… but then, if she were alone, he wouldn't be there to see it, would he? He shook his head and decided that that was a bad idea. It not only hurt, but made his thoughts fuzzier than before.  
  
Petunia snorted impatiently, grabbed her nephew by the elbow, and hauled him to the bathroom, muttering about thick-headed idiots all the way. "Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes?" she snarled as she daubed iodine on the cut and breathed gin fumes into his face.  
  
'Apparently not,' was the response Harry had just enough wit to not say.  
  
"What on Earth do you have in your hair, Potter?"  
  
Automatically, Harry started to reach up to feel his head. "Why? What does it look like?" he asked.  
  
"Don't smear blood in your hair, idiot child," Petunia said. She grabbed his hand and shoved it under the running water. "It looks like bird droppings in your hair," she added, wrinkling her nose.  
  
"Bird…? Oh, for Merlin's sake, if that crazy owl has pooped on my head, I swear Ron's going to be buy me hair potions… shampoo… for a full term!" Harry snarled as he pulled away from his aunt to look anxiously in the mirror. He didn't feel anything but hair, but when he looked, he could clearly see streaks of white in the black thicket that was his … hair?   
  
Petunia smirked when she saw her nephew have a normal reaction, for once. She'd actually wondered if Potter would care if there was… But there wasn't. Those weren't owl pellets in his hair, those white streaks were…  
  
"My hair's going white!" Harry gasped.

Ron in a Snit:

Ginny sat at the kitchen table, drumming her heels against her chair legs and watching Pixie chase errant honey-marshmallow snitches around the room. She wondered if she should just flat out _ask_ Harry if he'd given the twins money. She wondered if she should write to Hermione and ask her to find out… no, that would be dishonest. Besides, she doubted that Hermione would ever break one of Harry's confidences.   
  
Come right down to it, Ginny would lose respect for Hermione if the older girl ever did betray one of Harry's confidences.  
  
After a virtual eternity of thought, soul-searching and two bowls of Qwidditch Qwunchies, Ginny reluctantly concluded there was no way to ask. She thought about casually mentioning the situation, but no. If Harry hadn't given the twins the money, he'd feel terrible about all the fighting. If Harry _had _given the money to the twins, he might feel worse for having caused the problems… well, at least one problem… well, exacerbated one problem. Never mind, she decided it was time to mail off her missive.  
  
For that, she needed an owl. She wondered if Ron would lend her Pigwidgeon in exchange for doing the dishes tonight. She wandered outside to find out.  
  
She found her brother looking thunderous and almost changed her mind about asking. Gathering up all the Gryffindor courage she could find lying on the floor, she managed. "Ron, may I use Pigwidgeon to send a thank you note to Harry?"  
  
"No," Ron answered curtly. "I've already sent him off to Harry, the stupid prat…." He crumpled up a wad of paper, threw it to the floor and stomped on it.  
  
"Oh," Ginny said. "Who's a prat? Harry or Pigwidgeon?"  
  
"Both," Ron snarled. He kicked the wad of paper into a corner, ignoring Pixie's delighted reaction to this game. "If anybody needs me, I'll be degnoming the garden." Ron stomped out of the house and slammed the door, ignoring his mother's not-so-delighted reaction to _that '_game'.  
  
Ginny shook her head. "What's got into _him_?" she asked the only other occupants of the room, a calico cat and a snowy owl.  
  
She did a double take when she realized to whom she was speaking. "Hedwig!" she cried in delight. "Have a nice trip? Would you like something to eat?" she asked, holding the door to the kitchen open.  
  
Graciously, Hedwig preceded her into the kitchen. Ginny frowned at the crumpled paper that Pixie was chasing around the room. Trust Ron to… wait, Hedwig was here and suddenly Ron was angry at Harry. So, the crumpled paper on the floor was… a letter from Harry? She shouldn't read Ron's mail… on the other hand, she shouldn't leave trash lying on the floor, should she? It's Ron's own fault if he left stuff lying around… besides, better she should pick it up than the twins.  
  
Resolutely, Ginny snatched up the offending, possibly offending, wad off the floor and went into the kitchen. She looked back to see if Pixie would follow. The cat stared at her as if debating the merits of snubbing the witch who'd stolen her toy versus the possibility of getting more food. Stomach won out over pride and she followed her new mistress into the food-domain.  
  
After giving Hedwig some owl treats and Pixie a stray honey-marshmallow snitch to play with, Ginny picked up the wad of paper. She _really _shouldn't read Ron's mail, she thought as she flattened out the paper. A fraction of her mind noticed that the quality of this parchment was much higher than the note Harry had sent with Pixie. Then she shook herself. What was she doing? This was *RON'S MAIL*  
  
She took one last wistful look at it… and saw her name. They were talking about her? Well, she supposed it stood to reason, she talked about her brothers a lot…  
  
She shouldn't … she couldn't _not_. She looked. Suddenly she felt like somebody had cast an _incendio_ charm on her. Her skin heated up so fast she felt sure that she was glowing. "Pixie! Look at this!" she hissed, holding the letter down to floor level so that the cat could bat at it. "He said '_Ask Ginny for help, she's as clever as Hermione_' Harry Potter thinks that I, Virginia Margaret Weasley, am _AS CLEVER AS HERMIONE_!" Her cheeks were hurting now, but she couldn't stop beaming. Ron often said that he and Harry reckoned that Hermione was the smartest witch to ever set foot in Hogwarts, and Harry thought that _she _was _as clever _as Hermione, and it wasn't empty flattery, either, because he had not intended her to see this letter, and, and…   
  
Hedwig rustled her wings impatiently. Ginny, being abruptly brought back to reality, jumped to her feet. "Oh, yes, I have a letter for Harry," she said, and fastened it to Hedwig's leg before she could lose her nerve.   
  
She watched Hedwig fly off and her stomach gave a nervous lurch. What if Harry thought she was a total idiot? She tried to remember what she'd written and hoped it wouldn't look too stupid.  
  
Then she took another look at the phrase in Harry's letter, wondering if she had enough Gryffindor courage to ask Ron if she could frame it. Then she noticed something Ron obviously had not, so she went to find him.  
  
"Oh, Ronnie-kins," she caroled.  
  
"WHAT?" Ron said, heaving a hefty garden gnome over the wall.  
  
"Trying for a personal best?"  
  
"Go away."  
  
"Can I read your letter from Harry?"  
  
Ron glared at her, then yanked the parchment out of her hand. "Why are you looking at my stuff?" he demanded.   
  
"Why are you throwing your stuff around the living room?" Ginny countered.   
  
Ron grunted and crumpled the parchment up. "This isn't about you?"  
  
"Not even the part where he says that I'm as clever as Hermione?"  
  
Ron glowered. "Where did you see that?"  
  
Ginny grinned. "Right between the part where he called you 'Romeo,' oh brother of mine."  
Ron's expression darkened.   
  
Ginny's grin widened and she finished. "And the part where he asked if you wanted to borrow his Firebolt for the summer."  
  
Ron's expression became downright murderous. "He said I should ask your advice before he started in on that 'Romeo' nonsense, like I don't know _anything_ about literature, the stup…" The rest of Ginny's comment sank in, his face paled and he yanked open the letter. "Offered me his Firebolt? Where?"  
  
"The second postscript," Ginny said sweetly, ignoring her slight misstatement. It had been for effect, anyway, she told herself. "You obviously stopped reading way too soon, brother mine."  
  
"Oh, crap." Ron yanked open the letter again.  
  
"That's rather inappropriate, considering what the boy just offered to lend you," Ginny sniffed, though she suspected she knew what Ron's problem was.  
  
"Not nearly as inappropriate as my last letter," Ron said, staring at the bottom of the letter.  
  
Ginny gave him a disgusted look.  
  
Ron cringed at her expression. "Okay, yes, I was out of line. I'm just… I don't know why I decided to start a fight with Harry," Ron moaned. "It's just… everything. Ginny, what am I going to _do_?"  
  
"I suggest an apology is in order," Ginny sniffed. In spite of her outward show, she'd already begun to feel sorry for Ron. Things were tense around the Burrow and she could understand how even mild teasing could set her brother off. Time to use that 'Hermione level' cleverness _some_ people thought she had.  
  
"Pig's not here… oh, I can use Hedwig," Ron said, brightening slightly. His face fell when Ginny shook her head.  
  
"Blast!"  
  
"Maybe we can use Errol?" Ginny suggested. "He can carry a small note, anyway."  
  
"Right," Ron said and they went inside, only to be informed that Errol was on an errand.  
  
"Hermes, then," Ginny said and they trooped off to find Percy.

Hairy Situation:

"Lovely," Harry sighed. He ran his fingers through his rebellious locks but the colors didn't change at all.  
  
"Probably a hereditary problem," Petunia said. "I would guess that your father's would be streaked with white by now. Your grandmother's was mostly white when I met her, and she was still fairly young."  
  
Harry looked at her with shock. Petunia wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her. Too much of her Lovely Lemonade, she supposed.  
  
"When did you meet my grandparents?" Harry asked. "I mean…"  
  
"I know what you mean, Potter," Petunia snapped. "I only met your father's mother. I was given to understand that his father had died while he was in Hog… school."  
  
"Oh," Harry digested that in silence as he stared at his reflection.  
  
Petunia looked like she might say something further, then she turned away.  
  
"Do you remember what their names were?" Harry asked.  
  
Petunia shook her head and left.  
  
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair once again. He wondered if he could turn it black again. He should ask Hermione if she knew which would be better, Muggle dye or Wizarding charm? His musings were cut short as he returned to his room and went to Hedwig's cage to get his letter. Harry pulled the note off with some difficulty, since Pig couldn't bring himself to stay still.  
  
Harry wound up with three pieces of letter that he had to fit together like a jigsaw. When he succeeded, he was immediately sorry that he'd bothered.  
  
"YOU STUPID PRAT! I AM NOT ILLITERATE! I DON'T NEED MISS PRISSY PREFECT-TO-BE TO TELL ME WHO ROMEO IS! YOUR JUST BLOODY LUCKY THAT MINORS CANT SEND HOWLERS OR YOUR ROOF WOULD BE CAVING IN NOW, YOU SNOTTY LITTLE PIPSQUEAK! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TELL ME WHAT I FEEL ABOUT HERMIONE? DON'T WRITE BACK, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!"  
  
Harry looked at the letter in shock for a few moments. Then he flopped down on his bed. Well, he'd _wanted_ to get a reaction out of Ron, and he sure had. He crumpled up the letter and scowled. That was mean… well, maybe he'd deserved … no! He hadn't said anything nasty in his letter! He didn't deserve to be treated like this… not by Ron, anyway.  
  
He'd show that red-head… he'd… what? Repeat the fight from last year? No, thanks, once was way too many times for that sort of stupidity. He didn't _want_ to fight with Ron. Besides, Ron was probably regretting the letter already. No _need_ to start a fight. Maybe he should apologize. Maybe he should make a joke of it. "Dear Ron, I take it you don't want the Firebolt?" No, that was nasty. "Was that a yes or a no on the Firebolt?" He scowled. No, that was too snotty.  
  
Pigwidgeon hooted worriedly and Harry realized he was lying on his back shredding the letter. He decided he needed some tea. He went downstairs. "Aunt Petunia? Do you want me to make you some tea?" he asked.  
  
"No, boy, but make some for yourself if you want."  
  
Whoa, that was almost gracious. Maybe she should drink gin more often. Harry went into the kitchen and fixed his tea.   
  
Then he couldn't drink it.   
  
Looking at the tea in his cup made him think of Trelawney and all the hours he and Ron had spent making up fake death predictions… only Cedric's death hadn't been fake, had it? And Fudge was trying to claim that Voldemort hadn't killed him. Maybe Fudge was trying to make it look like Harry had killed poor Cedric, or that Harry had imagined the whole thing, or that… Harry quashed those thoughts with difficulty. It wouldn't help to think like that.  
  
Harry almost wished he could see the future in soggy tea leaves. He didn't believe in Divination any longer, but he understood why some people _wanted_ to believe. It would be nice to know what was coming. He looked at the shredded letter in his hand. On the other hand, sometimes, ignorance was bliss. He mulled that thought over for a few minutes, then headed back to his room. No point in wasting a perfectly good solution when it was staring him straight in the face.

Ginny and Ron and Percy's Door:

"Aw, come on, Perce! This is an emergency! I need to borrow Hermes so I can send a letter to tell Harry to ignore my last letter!"  
  
"Use Errol," Percy said stiffly.  
  
"Mum sent Errol out already," Ginny said.  
  
"Besides, Errol hasn't got any chance at all of catching up to Pig," Ron said. "Hermes might, though."  
  
"I need Hermes… oh, here's Pigwidgeon," Percy interrupted himself with a small sigh of relief.   
  
Pigwidgeon ricocheted off the wall, bounced off Ron's hand as the boy tried to grab him, then dropped neatly into Ginny's hand.  
  
"You should try out for Quidditch," Percy said soberly. "You'd make a great Seeker."  
  
"Thanks, Percy," Ginny said absently as she deftly undid the letter.  
  
"I can't look," Ron moaned, covering his face. "Ginny, you read it."  
  
She took a deep breath, then opened the note and read it. Then she sighed. "You're in luck, listen. -- _Ron, sorry to bother you, but I need you to redo your last letter. I dropped it in my soup before I could read it. (Yes, laugh now, don't wait for the next time you see me.) Did you get my letter about the Firebolt? – Harry."  
_  
Ron let his breath out with a woof. "Thank goodness for small favors." It never crossed his mind that Harry might have lied. After all, Harry was basically honest and Ron _wasn't_ the one who had just been thinking about all the lies he and Harry used to write down for Trelawney. All the relieved redhead thought was that some kindly Fate had stepped in to prevent another fall out between him and one of his best friends.  
  
"Pigwidgeon probably did a swan dive into his soup bowl, but Harry was too polite to say," ventured Percy. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a letter to finish."  
  
"Give Penelope our regards," Ron said, conveniently overlooking his own distaste for being teased.  
  
"As it happens, Ronald Reuel Weasley," Percy said haughtily. "I was writing to Dumbledore. I have a suggestion as to how to better protect the Burrow from intruders. Maybe that will make him reconsider Harry's exile." Percy shut his door in his younger siblings' faces. Then he opened it and winked at them before shutting it again.  
  
"Just when you think he's a total…" Ron couldn't finish his statement because Ginny shoved Harry's note into his mouth.  
  
"Here, you can't eat your words, so eat Harry's," she teased.   
  
Later, she would smack herself for throwing away a precious Harry letter. 

*** *** ***

QUICK FIX --  
Xavien -- **Whoops**, I'm making Ginny's middle name Margaret. I'm assuming that's what Molly is short for. Bonnie Wright plays Ginny in the movies. My bad. We now return you to your regular author's notes…  


  
Author's Notes:  
Sorry, I lied, the reason for them being in the attic won't be in this chapter after all. I wanted to be doing at least a chapter a week, and I seem to have fallen behind. Besides, the whole attic business is rather a sharp change in mood from this chapter.  
  
The bit about not bleeding on the floor is from real life. I fell against the coffee table when I was a child. My father had not only made this table, but he had carefully rounded the edges so clumsy children would not injure themselves on it. But I managed to put a gash in my forehead that required stitches. The first thing out of my (otherwise loving) mother's mouth when she saw my injury was: 'Don't bleed on the carpet.' (I still have the scar on my forehead. Alas, it's not a cool looking lightning bolt, though.)

  
Hikahi -- Thanks for the review! Yes, I _could _have ended the story somewhere else, but to quote my favorite caretaker "God, I miss the screaming!". Hope the history paper went well.  
  
Nightw2 – Thanks for the review! I'm sorry, I'm rather stuck on our Aladdin collaboration. I'll get back on that soon!  
  
katrina -- Yep, Hermione is stressing about Harry's problems, and her own. I'm going to have fun with Harry and Hermione's relationship because it's not a romantic one nor a familial one.  
  
lan -- *Blushes* Thanks for the compliments! Here is the update and Ron's reaction!  
  
MoNmOn – Thanks for the review!   
  
Imp – Glad you want more of the story! I'll try to be faster at getting you more!  
  
coolone007 – Wow! Glad my writing has helped you! Hope my writing continues to please!  
  
pegoheart144 – Wow, again! Thanks for putting me on your favorites list! I have a definite end for this story in mind. I know where it's going and I know how to get there. It's just a matter of time.  
  
Ozma -- Oooo, I love it when you scream, Partner! Cliff-hangers are so much fun when I'm the one hanging them. ** Can't you just see Petunia turning to drink when she has to deal with the unnatural son of her too-perfect sister? ** I can imagine how Harry feels about Cedric's death. I had a much milder dose of that when one of my cats killed a baby bird. It must be horrible to think you caused a person to die. ** Yes, Hermione is the kind of friend that I would want. Somebody who doesn't just worry but tries to find some way to help. ** Thanks! I just thought that Shakespeare's time seemed much more inclined to believe in magic without resorting to witch hunts. ** Harry would reassure the Weasleys about the source of the money if he realized how much stress it's producing.  
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse – Thanks for the kind words! And double thanks for putting me on your favorites list! ** I figured Ginny for strawberries because I'm crazy for strawberries and I'm a girl. ** It would be interesting for Snape to read an essay about how all boys are prats, since it would probably include him, too!  
  
Miriam – Glad you like the story! It occurs to me that nobody is 100% anything. Harry sees only the nasty side of the Dursleys, but I figure there must be something else, even if it's deeply buried. There will be more of this in later chapters. ** We really don't get into anybody's head but Harry's in canon. I like to try to think from the other character's point of view. I don't think that Harry is clueless about Ginny's crush, though. He noticed all the broken crockery and elbows in the butter dish. He's just trying to spare Ginny's feelings and not notice. ** I figure there has to be some overlap between the Wizarding world and the Muggle world, especially back in the times when people were more ready to believe in the supernatural. Snape wasn't angry at the reference so much as he was angry at Lavender using a 'silly incantation.' And, since he knew the source of the quote, she failed to convince him that she'd just misremembered the proper incantation. ** Hope you like this chapter!  
  
Chary – Thanks! Glad you liked that chapter, hope you like this chapter, too! ** I can sympathize with Petunia a little. I know what it's like to be overshadowed by one's siblings. On the other hand, if my late sister had left a son and I'd been given him to raise, he'd be the most huggled little boy on the planet. ** Harry's interesting to me. He was brought up in such a bad environment, yet he's managed to avoid becoming as embittered as Voldemort had. The fact that he is able to open himself up to friends seems to me to show how much courage he truly has. ** Yes, Hermione has a lot to be worried about. Her parents are Muggles and she's Harry's friend. A potentially fatal combination. (It occurs to me that the only people in more danger than the Muggle parents of a witch might be the Muggle husband of a witch, namely Seamus Finnigan's father.) ** NO COCKROACHES?? Dang! Pack my bags! How'd England escape cockroaches? Rowling's familiar with them, else why would she have 'cockroach clusters?' Anyway, when I get around to updating my fourth chapter, you'll see what replaced the cockroaches. ** I can come up with worse cliffhangers, Missy. If you don't want to see them, then I suggest you update "Beloved on this Earth"… soon!  
  
Alla – Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you came over from Ozma's site to check out my solo stories. I'm glad you find my humor and my take on the Weasleys to be to your taste. I'm trying to come up with a different take on how Harry and Ginny become a couple. ** I'm glad you consider me good enough to put on your favorites list!  
  
Female Fred – Thanks for the compliment! Pixie reminds me of my cats. I suppose if I want her to sleep on a T.V. set, she'll have to visit the Grangers…  
  



	6. A Wild Hair

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

  
Chapter Six: A Wild Hair

  
Harry Writes a Letter:   
  
Harry chewed on the end of his fountain pen and put his feet up on the battered trunk that he alternately used as a footstool and a writing desk during the Great Attic Cleanup. His aunt had told him to haul it to the kerb, but he rather liked the battered looking thing. When he ran his fingers across it, he could feel the faint outline of roses, although he couldn't see them in the battered leather.  
  
He owed Ginny a letter, right? He wouldn't look stupid for writing a thank you for a thank you note, would he? It was times like this that he wished he had a sympathetic adult present to ask questions like this. He didn't think Aunt Petunia had been drinking enough to be approachable.  
  
He'd have to risk it, he decided. Besides, he was fairly certain that Ginny probably wouldn't object to getting a letter from him. She still liked him, even though she had gotten over her crush on him a long time ago. (Thank Merlin!)  
  
His stomach cramped suddenly. *Oh, please, don't think about crushes. Thinking about crushes will make you think of Cho. Thinking of Cho will bring you to… Ginny. Write a letter to Ginny. She's a nice person, you should be nice to her.*  
  
"_Dear Ginny_," Wow, such originality! "_I'm glad you like the cat_." *What a startling revelation, I'm sure she expected you to be disappointed.* *Ithought you* ? *I hoped that she would find a welcome*? *I figured*? "_I thought that you'd like her. Ron's told me that you really like cats, and I've seen how you help other students with their animals. I'm glad to know that Pixie is in such capable hands. (Ron's told you how she got her name? It was the only way to keep Uncle Vernon from doing something to her. Well, to be fair, I only think Uncle Vernon would have done something to her if he'd thought she was a regular cat.) Anyway, feel free to change it if you don't like it. Or if she doesn't like it. Whatever_." (Stop _babbling_, Potter.)  
  
He frowned. What else? 'Please write back, I am feeling bored and lonely and I need something to take my mind off. Oh, yeah, what a sweet talker I am. Ginny doesn't need to listen to me whining. Besides, wouldn't Cedric love to have a chance to be bored and miserable? He had a flash of Cedric and Cho holding hands and his stomach gave another lurch. This time, he had to run to the bathroom. He braced himself on the toilet, but the churning subsided and left his last meal where it was.  
  
He hadn't wanted Cedric dead, really. He'd been jealous… that was natural, right? Just wishing Cedric would fall off the face of the Earth hadn't brought about Cedric's death, had it? Or was he letting himself off the hook because he didn't _want_ to be responsible for Cedric's death? Mr. and Mrs. Diggory hadn't blamed him, but then, they probably hadn't known about his crush on Cho. Harry sighed. He wished he had a neutral adult that he could trust to talk to about these things. The only adults he felt comfortable talking with were, face it, prejudiced in his favor. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the thought of there being people prejudiced in his favor helped calm his nerves, so went back to his bedroom.   
  
*Erm…* "_Thank you for the meat pies. They were delicious._ *Should I ask who cooked them? She might be embarrassed if I do. Or annoyed that I assumed that she couldn't cook them. Never mind, if you have to agonize over the question, it's not worth asking. As something else.*  
  
"_ I'm curious about the dust bunnies you mentioned. In Muggle houses, the term 'dust bunnies' refers to a clump of dust and hair. I was wondering if Wizarding dust bunnies were, well, more rabbit-like_." *There, that ought to convince her you're a total idiot.*  
  
_"I mean, you mentioned Pixie liked to chase them, so I was wondering if they moved on their own or were just blown around by stray breezes." _He sighed. What else? _"So, how's your summer going, other than cleaning up the attic? We're in the same boat there, I'm helping Aunt Petunia clean out the attic at Privet Drive."_ *NO, she thought you were cleaning out some attic in Hogsmeade!*   
  
"_My uncle and my cousin are away on a trip."_ *Tell her that they're at a fat farm? Nah, no need to elaborate. Besides, to a witch, a 'fat farm' might be some place where they raise fat or something.* _"Which leaves me to do most of the heavy lifting." _*Like they'd have helped if they were here.* _"It could be worse, I suppose. At least I'm building up some muscle."_  
  
"_How's your summer so far? I've got my Potions and my History of Magic essays written. I wonder if McGonagall is really going to make us turn footstools into sheep. Ask the twins if they had to do that. I can't see the point of this. I mean, if you're really hungry, I guess it's better to eat a sheep than a footstool, but I imagine they wouldn't taste very good, would you? Besides, wouldn't it be easier to just transfigure the footstool into lamb chops?"_  
  
*If you keep babbling like this, Ginny will think that YOU'RE the one who's been spiking your lemonade.*  
  
_"Anyway, if you need any help with your essays, I'll be happy to try to help." _*Where'd that come from? She probably doesn't need help, and you're no Hermione.* _"I'm not as good as Hermione, but since she's going to be out of the country for a week or so, maybe I could fill in. My best subjects are charms and DADA."_ *Like she couldn't guess that.* _"Like you couldn't guess that."  
_  
Harry ran his fingers through his hair, and another thought occurred to him. _"I sort of have an ulterior motive for volunteering. I have a problem that I'm hoping you or your mother could help me with. My hair is turning white. Not a lot, mind, just some random streaks. Considering everything else that's going on, it's a small thing, but it's annoying. What do witches do when their hair goes white? Or does it matter to them?"  
  
"Looking forward to seeing you and the rest of your family at the Burrow soon,"  
  
Harry  
_  
He ran his hand through his hair again, read the letter over and then decided this was enough tripe to put in one letter. So, he attached it to Hedwig's leg.  
  
Hedwig eyed him suspiciously.  
  
"Oh, go on," Harry said, waving his hands at her. "You act as if I'm _always_ changing my mind about my letters instead of just the once."  
  
Hedwig shrugged, then flew off. Apparently, she was still miffed about something. Goody, another fight in progress. Harry wished he could write to Sirius, he needed to talk to somebody who wasn't mad at everybody, but Hedwig was too conspicuous. He needed a less showy bird to send to Lupin's place. Hedwig wasn't going to like that at all.  
  
  
Ron and Ginny Read a Letter:  
  
Ron scowled.  
  
"Come on, Ron," Ginny said in affectionate exasperation. She sat down next to him and punched his arm. "He's your best friend, it's not like you're _proposing _to him or anything. Don't get all tongue-tied, that's _my_ job."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes at her. Then he looked at the pile of crumpled parchment littering the lawn around the oak tree by the stream.  
  
Ginny's eyes widened and she leaped to her feet. "Ron! That stuff's expensive! You want Mum to put you on permanent degnoming duty?" She bounced around, plucking up paper and dislodging a few beetles and a curious gnome or two from the undersides of the scraps. Then she came back to sit with Ron while she flattened out the paper.  
  
Ron looked unhappy, so Ginny changed her tune. "Well, most of these only have a few lines on them. I can erase them, and smooth them out so the paper can be reused." Her eyes went wide went she caught sight of what Ron had written. "RON! Not again! Poor Harry!"  
  
"I know," Ron said icily. "That's why I discarded them. I doubt Harry'd drop his letter in the soup again."  
  
"Well, why do you want to be nasty for, anyway? It's not like you ever teased Harry about girls," Ginny spoke with authority, but in truth she was only guessing. She knew about Harry's crush on Cho Chang. _Everybody_ knew about Harry's crush on Cho Chang. (She knew she should be sympathetic to Harry's plight, but there were times when she felt, well, malicious glee was the only term for it. It wasn't fair that the whole school was in on Harry's innermost feelings, but, damn it! It wasn't anything she hadn't been through!)  
  
Ron shrugged, proving to Ginny that she hit the mark. "I do so know who Romeo and Juliet are," Ron gritted, changing the subject. "Why would he assume that I don't?"  
  
"Because he doesn't know how much Muggle literature you're familiar with," Ginny said. "You've never shown any interest in books before."  
  
"Shakespeare was a squib, everybody knows that!" Ron said.  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" Ginny replied. "He lived in the Muggle world and his works are classified as Muggle literature."  
  
"Hermione and I are nothing like Romeo and Juliet," Ron insisted. His expression was closed, reminding Ginny of the look Harry frequently got on his face after the third task.  
  
Worried, she tried to tease him into a better mood. "Of course not," she said, poking him in the arm. "Romeo and Juliet were in _opposing _houses. Everyone knows that Romeo was a Slytherin and Juliet was a Gryffindor."  
  
Ron's scowl got darker.  
  
Ginny stifled a giggle and fluttered her eyes at her brother. "Oh, _Ronnie-kins_. Have you no _romance_ in your soul?"  
  
Ron lurched to her feet and suddenly Ginny was aware of how tall he was.   
  
"I don't see anything bloody romantic about teenagers dying!" Ron roared.   
  
Ginny shrank back, wide-eyed.  
  
Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, blushed, sank back to the grass and covered his face. "Damn. I'm sorry Ginny."  
  
Ginny recovered herself. She knew Ron well enough to understand that outburst. After all, more than half her brothers were teenagers, she was a teenager, Harry and Hermione were teenagers. She could see where the thought of teenagers dying would bother him. "You're scared, aren't you?"  
  
"Of course I'm scared!" Ron snapped, lifting his face up. Then he bit his lip. "Sorry. I hate this. Why can't we have a normal life where all I'd have to worry about is what color flowers to buy for Hermione's corsage? I hate this war and it hasn't even started yet."  
  
"We all do," Ginny said soothingly.  
  
"I know that," a little acid crept back into Ron's voice. "But Hermione's in danger because she's a Muggle _and _because she's Harry's friend. Harry, of course…"  
  
"You're in danger, too, you know," Ginny said softly. She reached out and patted Ron's forearm.  
  
"I know… but, somehow it's not as scary. I mean, this is mostly scary because, I don't know what's really going on with them, especially Harry."  
  
"They write, don't they?"  
  
"Yeah, but it's not the same. I mean, Hermione will leave things out if she thinks it will upset me and, well, you know what Harry's like. He could have a werewolf gnawing on his knee, but if you ask him how he is…"  
  
"He'll say…" Ginny interjected.  
  
"I'M FINE!" both Weasleys put in together. Both heaved deep sighs afterwards.  
  
This wasn't getting them anywhere. So Ginny decided to make an effort and break out of the foul mood. "Admit it, though, you really _do_ have romantic feelings for Hermione," she said.  
  
Ron blushed.  
  
"Why not just admit it?"  
  
"Because I'm scared of that, too," Ron admitted. "I mean, I don't want to be teased…" he trailed off and the blush deepened.  
  
"The way I've been teased over Harry?" Ginny asked ironically.  
  
Ron made a wry face. "Exactly." He paused.   
  
"You learn to live with that."  
  
"Yeah." Long pause. "I'm sorry about teasing you, by the way."  
  
"Thanks," then Ginny grinned. "But don't think that means you're going to get off the hook _that_ easily."  
  
Ron looked alarmed.  
  
"Though, really, you don't have _nearly _as much to 'look forward to' as the twins do."  
  
"Thanks. I'll help you with the twins, by the way."  
  
"Thanks. If you want my advice about Hermione, you should ask her on a date."  
  
"But…" Ron sighed. "But it's so _bizarre_ to think about going out on a date with Hermione. It's even more bizarre to think about doing something with her that doesn't involve Harry."  
  
"So, involve Harry," Ginny advised.  
  
"It's not a _date_ if it's the three of us, Ginny," Ron said.  
  
"It is if there are _four_ of you," Ginny replied.  
  
Ron's eyes went wide. "Oh, a double date! That would be perfect!" He leaned back and chewed on his lip.   
  
"So, who should we get for Harry's date?" Ginny mused. "Parvati? Do you think she'll even speak to him after the Yule Ball Disaster?" she added at the incredulous look on Ron's face.  
  
"I reckoned _you'd_ be Harry's date," he said.  
  
"ME!" squeaked Ginny.  
  
"Why not? Don't you want to date Harry?" Ron asked.  
  
"Of course I want to!" Ginny retorted, turning Weasley red in the face. "What makes you think he'd even consider asking me to be his date?"  
  
"_You_ could ask _him_," Ron pointed out.  
  
Ginny squeaked again.  
  
"I could ask him, then," Ron said.  
  
"I don't think he swings that way."  
  
"GINNY!"  
  
"Sorry," Ginny giggled. "But really, ask him what? 'Harry, I need you to be Ginny's date to help me work up the nerve to ask Hermione out on a date'?"  
  
"Erm, something like that…" Ron trailed off uncertainly. Then he perked up. "I've got an idea, I'll help you get a date with Harry if you help me get a date with Hermione."  
  
"You mean, you're not going to have a hissy fit if Harry gets interested in me?" Ginny asked slyly.  
  
"Why would I? He's my best mate. He deserves the best," Ron said. Then he blushed. After all, one didn't go around admitting that he thought his sister was the greatest thing since the Chudley Cannons!   
  
Ginny blushed, too, then said. "Pink."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"You should get Hermione a pink corsage," she explained. "It would look good with her coloring."  
  
Before Ron had a chance to respond to that, Hedwig swooped down to deliver Harry's latest letter to Ginny.  
  
"Hey!" Ron protested as Hedwig held her leg out for Ginny.  
  
"Hey is for horses," Ginny shot back. "Besides, you haven't written him back, yet."  
  
"Oh. Right. What should I say?"  
  
"I'm busy, write your own letter."  
  
"Read me yours," Ron commanded.  
  
Ginny gave him a McGonagall LOOK.  
  
"Please. Besides, it's only fair. You read my letter from Harry."  
  
"Only part of it, by accident," Ginny huffed.  
  
Ron just grinned at her until she grinned back. She decided to comply. Maybe Ron would read her other letters from Harry. Besides, it wasn't like Harry was going to propose or anything, right?  
  
"_Dear Ginny_," she read.  
  
"Whoooo! Ginny's got a boyfriend! Ginny's got a boyfriend!" Ron hooted, pumping his fist in the air.  
  
Ginny slugged his arm.   
  
"_I'm glad you like the cat_. _I thought that you'd like her. Ron's told me that you really like cats, and I've seen how you help other students with their animals."  
  
_Ginny's jaw dropped and she stared at the letter. "He's NOTICED me?" she squeaked.  
  
Ron reached over, twirled a strand of her hair around his finder and pulled it across her eyes. "He's not blind, you know," he drawled.  
  
Ginny sighed and continued reading. Ron was right. The only thing that was more noticeable than Weasley hair would be, maybe, somebody's head bursting into flame.  
_  
I'm glad to know that Pixie is in such capable hands. (Ron's told you how she got her name? It was the only way to keep Uncle Vernon from doing something to her. Well, to be fair, I only think Uncle Vernon would have done something to her if he'd thought she was a regular cat.) Anyway, feel free to change it if you don't like it. Or if she doesn't like it. Whatever_. _Thank you for the meat pies. They were delicious._   
  
"Of course, Mum baked them," Ginny said before Ron could. "And you have to let me read your whole letter, now!" she added. "I want to know what Harry said about naming Pixie."  
  
Ron shrugged.  
  
_" I'm curious about the dust bunnies you mentioned. In Muggle houses, the term 'dust bunnies' refers to a clump of dust and hair. I was wondering if Wizarding dust bunnies were, well, more rabbit-like_."   
  
Ron shook his head despairingly, then dodged as Ginny aimed another blow at him. "Hey!"  
  
"Well, how's Harry supposed to know that dust bunnies are ephemerals?" Ginny retorted.  
  
"Ephemerals?" Ron asked.  
  
"You know, magical creatures with a life span…"  
  
"Of only a day or two," Ron finished impatiently. "Yes, I know that. Where did _you _learn such long words?"  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a baby, Ron. I'm fourteen! Besides, I read a lot, you know."  
  
"You're as bad as Hermione," Ron muttered.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Ron reached over and mussed her hair up.  
  
Ginny slapped his hand away.  
  
_"I mean, you mentioned Pixie liked to chase them, so I was wondering if they moved on their own or were just blown around by stray breezes. So, how's your summer going, other than cleaning up the attic? We're in the same boat there, I'm helping Aunt Petunia clean out the attic at Privet Drive."_   
  
"Hey, something you two have in common, Cinderella," Ron said. He caught her fist when she swung at him. So she kicked him instead.

"Hey!" Ron protested. "No fair, Mum would hex me if I hit you!" He rubbed his knee where her kick landed.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. "Next time, then, be the last one born!" She went back to the letter before he could think of a suitable retort.  
  
"_My uncle and my cousin are away on a trip. Which leaves me to do most of the heavy lifting._ _It could be worse, I suppose. At least I'm building up some muscle."_  
  
"WHOOO!" Ron hooted. He snatched up a piece of parchment and began fanning Ginny furiously. "Be _still_ your _heart_!"  
  
Ginny giggled and picked up another 'fan' for herself.  
  
"_How's your summer so far? I've got my Potions and my History of Magic essays written. I wonder if McGonagall is really going to make us turn footstools into sheep. Ask the twins if they had to do that. I can't see the point of this. I mean, if you're really hungry, I guess it's better to eat a sheep than a footstool, but I imagine they wouldn't taste very good, would you? Besides, wouldn't it be easier to just transfigure the footstool into lamb chops?"_  
  
"He makes it sound like he thinks transfiguration is easy," Ron complained. "He's even worse at it than I am!"  
  
Ginny giggled again. Then her jaw dropped again and her face went furiously red.  
  
"WHAT?" Ron demanded.  
  
"He's… I mean, I think he's flirting with me," gasped Ginny.  
  
"Give me that," Ron snatched the letter out of her hands and ran his finger down it. "What? I don't see anything that looks like flirting."  
  
"Well, he offered to help me with my homework…" Ginny trailed off uncertainly.   
  
"Ginny, if offering to help with homework was flirting, that would mean that Hermione was flirting with half of Gryffindor, all the Hufflepuffs in our Herbology class, and a few select Ravenclaws who shall remain nameless to spare them the humiliation of having it known they turned to a Gryffindor for help!"  
  
Ginny giggled again, partly in relief. She wasn't sure how she'd react if Harry actually started flirting with her!  
  
"Besides, he's asking you for a favor," Ron said. "See, he's having hair problems, poor sap." The last bit was said under his breath.  
  
Ginny read the letter. "Oh, the poor thing!" she said. "I'll ask Mum if she knows anyway to fix this." She bounded to her feet.  
  
"Hey, what about my letter?"  
  
"Keep it short and sweet, something along the lines of 'I know who Romeo is, I am not Romeo.' and 'Yes, I'll take the Firebolt, thank you,'" Ginny advised. "I'll read it over before you mail it, if you want."  
  
"Good idea," Ron admitted.  
  
  
Molly and Dumbledore:  
  
Molly threw a pinch of dust into the fire. "Albus Dumbledore," she said clearly, although her voice wanted to shake. She took a deep breath, stuck her head in the fireplace and looked around. She was in Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Ah, Molly," Dumbledore said pleasantly, but there was a worried look in his eyes. He knew Molly wouldn't be using such an expensive means of communication on a whim. "What brings you to my fire?"  
  
"I'm worried," Molly said. She looked into the Burrow behind her. Ginny had gone upstairs to work at the attic some more. Ron appeared to be writing a letter outside. She took a deep breath. "No, I'm scared. The sooner you can let Harry come to the Burrow, the better off we'll all be."  
  
Dumbledore's brows furrowed. "Why do you think his danger has increased?" he asked quietly.  
  
Molly read the last part of Harry's letter.  
  
"White hairs," mused Dumbledore. "It _could _be simple stress, you know."  
  
Molly nodded. "After all he's been through? I _wouldn't _be surprised." She swallowed. "However… when Ginny was younger, I read her every book about Harry that I could find. One of them was much too… technical… for a young girl, so I skipped most of it. One part I skipped was where it said that Harry's Grandmother Potter died of _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhaging. That's triggered by stress, Albus, and not only that, it runs in his family. After all that poor child has been through, he should be thoroughly checked by a medi-wizard, preferably a specialist, and those Muggles will never do that!"  
  
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I remember Tatiana Potter well," he said. "She never fully recovered from the shock of having her husband murdered. She died shortly after James was married." He was silent for a long time. "I don't suppose Harry has mentioned any other symptoms besides white streaks in his hair?" Dumbledore asked. "Headaches? Swollen joints? Stomach pains? Nausea?" he paused. "I suppose even his Aunt would notice if he were coughing blood."  
  
Molly shook her head. "Maybe not. You know how stoic that boy is. He probably wouldn't tell her if he was throwing up blood. If he's mentioned any symptoms to Ron or Ginny, they haven't passed the news on to me. And I assure you, they'd seize on any evidence that Harry would be better off here with us."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "You are right. I should have foreseen this possibility. I'll hurry the preparations as best I can." He stroked his beard for a moment. "I'll also talk to the director of St. Mungo's. If nothing else, I will arrange for a thorough physical for Harry."  
  
"Thank you," Molly breathed. She pulled her head from the fire. There had to be something she could send Harry to help him. Well, she was no Hermione, but maybe it was time to go to the library.  
  
  
Harry and LEE:  
  
Harry had to hand it to his aunt. She worked like a house-elf once she got started. On his own, Harry figured that cleaning out the attic would have taken at least a week. Between the two of them, they'd cleaned out all the trash from the attic and sorted through the seemingly endless array of boxes, trunks, suitcases, chests and crates in the attic.  
  
Some things were actually put in the charity box. Most were just repacked. However, once they were finished, everything that was left was packed much more compactly. There was now room to walk about the attic. Harry looked around the tidy attic and his stomach ache worsened. This was bad, but he didn't know why.   
  
He wasn't left in the dark for very long.  
  
When he returned from lugging the last load to the dust bins on the kerb, he found his aunt looking around the attic with a speculative look on her face. Harry's stomach ache got even worse.  
  
"You know, Potter, this attic wouldn't make a half bad bedroom," Petunia said.  
  
Harry sighed in resignation. Well, it was better than the cupboard under the stairs. But there were only two windows, and both were small and set up high, there for ventilation rather than viewing. He looked up measuringly. 'At least Hedwig could fly in and out,' he consoled himself.   
  
Petunia kept up a running dialog. "Yes, you can use this old camp bed and I was thinking of chucking this old desk, but you can use it for the rest of your stay with us. No need in getting _you_ anything new. You'll be leaving in two years."  
  
'And not coming back,' Harry thought. He didn't bother voicing it. There was no point in stating the obvious.  
  
"I'll help you bring your trunk up here," Petunia decided. "You can study up here and I can have that cupboard back at last."  
  
Harry shot her a look of mingled incredulity and fury. Petunia actually stepped back a pace.   
  
"Putting me in the boot cupboard was NOT.MY.IDEA!" Harry snapped. He marched downstairs, not bothering to wait for Petunia's response.  
  
Petunia stared after him for several long moments, then her cheek twitched and she sighed. Then she went down to help Harry carry his trunk upstairs. She was not going to apologize for having disciplined him. They had done the right thing, she told herself firmly.  
  
Between the two of them, they managed to get Harry's things up into the attic. Harry insisted that he needed a stool or something to reach the windows so he could have them open to let owls in and out. Petunia had frowned, but made no objection. She'd won her major battle, so she was going to let the smaller ones go.  
  
As soon as they got everything arranged, Petunia turned to go. "What's this doing here?" she demanded. "Why didn't you take it out to the trash like I told you?"  
  
Harry looked at the trunk he'd been using. "I like it," he said. "If you don't want it, why can't I keep it?"  
  
Petunia snorted. "This old trash? Why not? It belonged to my grandmother, Benedictine Arne," Petunia snorted again. "She never forgave mother for not naming one of her daughters after her, the crazy old bat."  
  
"She was crazy?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well, she claimed she could see… the future…" Petunia trailed off. "Maybe she was a freak like you and your mother," she added. "She _claimed _she had powers, but she never mentioned Hogwarts or ever hinted that there was a society of wizards."  
  
"Maybe she didn't know," Harry mused. He fumbled with the catch.   
  
"There can't be anything in that trunk," Petunia said. "It's too light."  
  
Harry stopped fumbling with the catch. "This is weird," he said.  
  
Curious, Petunia stooped for a better look. Harry showed her the latch.  
  
"It's fake!" Petunia breathed. She ran her forefinger along the line beneath the false latch. "This isn't the front of the trunk, this is a seam, there must be hidden hinges."  
  
"So the back of the trunk must be the front," Harry mused.   
  
They turned the trunk around and studied the back.   
  
"The hinges must be latches," Harry said. He reached out and fingered them. Suddenly, the old, battered trunk began to melt and reform. It was still an old, leather trunk, but it was in much better shape. The pattern of roses and eagles embossed around the edges was clear, if faded.  
  
Petunia backed away.  
  
Curious, Harry flipped the disguised latches and the trunk. Inside, there was old, yellowed tissue paper covering lumpy parcels. On top of everything was a note.  
  
"_PV_," the note read. _"Please store this until I get a chance to pick it up. I'll probably be there around November 5th. By the way, you don't have to worry about attending a 'Christmas bash with weirdos' this year, we won't be able to host one. I would appreciate it if you would keep some December dates free for next year. J. is already planning a 'Make It Up To Everyone Party'. -- LE."_  
  
Harry stared. He'd never seen this writing before, but he didn't need anybody to spell it out for him.  
  
Petunia did anyway. "Lily," she whispered.  
  
  


To Be Continued

### Author's Notes ###

__

Kirttimukha is from Hindu mythology.

The comments about sheep/footstool transfigurations are inspired by rabbit and -v-Jinx-v's Slytherin Study Group. I highly recommend those stories.

Pseudonym Sylphmuse: Thanks for the review! Your Ginny story sounds interesting. I'd like to see what happens when she accidentally turns in a diary entry with her homework!  
  
A. Lee: Ron is still having troubles writing a letter. Harry doesn't intend to let on that he saw the nasty one. Further updates as they happen!  
  
MoNmOn: Not all of Harry's hair is white. He's just getting white hairs. (This is actually based on real life. I started getting white hairs when I was in high school. I was rather proud of them.)  
  
Nightw2: Thanks for the review! I am working on our collaboration!  
  
Xavien: Yes, I've noticed that there are standard phrases in a lot of reviews. I don't really mind it, though. I just like getting reviews! (Thanks for yours, by the way.) ** I've heard of worse things than Gin and Lemon. ** I corrected Ginny's middle name, already. I'm using Margaret for her middle name. Thanks for pointing that out. ** No, I wasn't planning on turning Harry into an owl. (I rather like that idea, though. I do seem to have the set up for it, don't I?)  
  
Chocolate Muse: Thanks! I'll update as fast as I can!  
  
Winddance: Thanks! Thanks! Thanks! I try to have a clear blueprint of where I'm going when I start a story. I don't always get there, but I try.   
  
Katrina: Yep, Ron got heated up. Harry unintentionally hit a sore spot. I hope this chapter clears up why.  
  
Female Fred: Anybody can be a prat, if you push the right buttons. As I said to Katrina, I hope this chapter explains why he was so touchy.  
  
Ozma: Thanks! Glad you liked the chapter, I had fun writing this. ** Yes, I can see how a blood stain on the carpet would be an unpleasant souvenir. ** That's one of many things that I like about Harry. He's been picked on all his life, but he isn't a doormat. He's kept his sense of humor and his sense of irony. I suspect if he got this from his father, then James must have been a handful. ** Ron does know who Romeo was, that's one reason he was so upset. The name has negative associations beyond being a young lover. ** Ron and Ginny are fun characters, at least, the way I see them. Ginny is underused in the books so far, I hope Book Five has more of her. ** Yes, she'd be curious about Harry's letter… and at the same time, she wouldn't want to intrude on Ron's privacy. I'm glad that scene worked. ** Nope, it wouldn't occur to Ron that Harry would lie to him about something like that. It's not the sort of thing a person usually lies about. Why would they? ** Ginny won't be too desolate, Harry's written back in this chapter!   
  
pegoheart144: Thanks for the review, and thanks for mentioning which parts you particularly liked.   
  
Christy: Thanks!

Chary: Update? Soon? By the way, have you seen my collaboration with Ozma?  



	7. Siblings and Other Rivals

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

  
Chapter Seven: Siblings and Other Rivals

Evans Siblings:  
"PV?" Harry asked.  
  
"For Petunia Victoria," Petunia answered. "And LE for Lily Elizabeth. Our father insisted that we be named for his favorite flowers. Mother insisted that we have dignified middle names, in case we wished to use them instead of our first names. Lily and I always addressed each other by our initials when we wrote. The few times we wrote," she amended hastily, as if ashamed of admitting that she wrote to her own sister.

Harry reached out and touched the bulky packages. "She left this with you? Was there anything else?"

Petunia frowned and stared off into space. "She sometimes left stuff with our parents," she admitted. "I inherited the house, so there's a small possibility that there's something else of hers up here… except that we've been through everything. I don't remember her leaving anything with me." She scowled. "On the other hand, I didn't remember her leaving this. Now that I see it, I remember finding it on the back porch one morning." Her lips thinned. Her unnatural sister must have used some sort of spell on her to make her forget about the stupid trunk. 

Her temper frayed quickly. "She'd dump gear on us, just like your unnatural friends dumped you on our front porch, Potter. Just some extraneous gear to be held onto in the unlikely event that it might prove useful someday."

The pained look on the boy's face told her that she'd scored a hit. She immediately told herself that she didn't regret it. The brat had it coming. She sniffed and said: "Anything else you find of your mother's you may keep." Then she went downstairs to make herself some more Lovely Lemonade.

Hermione and her Mail:

Hermione felt restless. She couldn't settle down to study or even read. Nothing on the telly caught her attention. She opened the window and looked out wistfully. She knew where Ron and Harry were in relation to her house. She'd traced them out on a map, once. In fact, she had a whole file folder stuffed with details of how she could get to either of their houses with no magic and no driver's license. She got the map out and flipped through it, tracing the combination of bus and underground routes that she'd have to take.

Tiring of that, she lay the folder down on the kitchen table and went to fix herself a cup of tea. Uncharacteristically, she forgot about the folder as she went up to her room to brood in private. 

She set her tea on her desk and promptly forgot that, too, as she paced around the room. Lacking anything useful to do, she began plotting how to get Harry on the telephone. She walked over to her window and slid it open as she weighed various arguments that might persuade the Dursleys into letting her talk to him. She quickly discarded polite requests and rational debates as being unworkable and was pondering various threats, when something blundered into her window and crashed into the side of her head.

Her shriek naturally attracted the attention of the rest of the Granger household. Her parents came bursting into her room to find their daughter frantically trying to disentangle Pigwidgeon from her hair, while at the same time keep Pigwidgeon out of reach of the vastly interested Crookshanks. 

The bandy-legged ginger cat forgot himself to the point where he actually leaped at Pigwidgeon. He missed the tiny owl and got a double pawful of Hermione's bushy hair. 

Thrown off balance by the painful assault on her scalp, Hermione fell. The mirror over her dresser shattered, as did her tea cup and several of the aromatherapy bottles and the face of her alarm clock. Hermione was saved from a nasty collision with the floor by her father's timely catch.

Emma Granger grabbed at Crookshanks, only to be rewarded with an armful full of scratches. "Stop that, you!" she scolded. She took a firm grip on the nape of Crookshanks' neck and hustled him out of the room.

Since he had his daughter in his arms already, Rupert was in the perfect position to pluck Pigwidgeon out of her hair.

"I sincerely hope this is good news," he said.

"I'm going to get a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office," Hermione moaned, looking around at the mess.

"I don't think anyone can blame you for losing it, under the circumstances," Rupert said soothingly.

"Mafalda Hopkirk can," Hermione said gloomily.

"Harry didn't get into serious trouble the first time, did he?" Rupert said gently. "You told me that when that house-elf destroyed that pudding, all he got was a warning, right?"

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. "Excuse me," she said. "I need to clean this up."

She opened the door to the hall, only to find her mother there, armed with a roll of paper towels and a vacuum cleaner. "Why don't you two go downstairs and have some tea?" she ordered.

Hermione and Rupert obeyed instantly out of an inbred sense of courtesy, not to mention self-preservation.

As her father bustled about making tea one-handed (Pigwidgeon still firmly clutched in the other). The owl from the Office of Improper Use of Magic came, as expected. 

_"Dear Miss Granger,_  
  
_We have received intelligence that a burst of psycho-kinetic energy was released in your house this evening. Please fill out the enclosed form explaining the situation. As this was clearly a case of involuntary wandless magic, this is merely a formality to ensure that you are all right._  
  
_Hoping the rest of your holidays are more enjoyable,_  
_Mafalda Hopkirk,_  
_Improper Use of Magic Office,_  
_Ministry of Magic"_

The form was surprisingly short and to the point. Hermione dutifully filled it out with her name, school, house, year, and the cause of the accident. "An idiotic, hyperactive owl became entangled in my hair while my equally idiotic cat tried to eat it."

"This form wouldn't help if you were in danger, would it?" Rupert said dryly. He gestured at the piece of paper Hermione was filling out with the hand that was still holding Pigwidgeon.

Pigwidgeon hooted happily and tried to nibble on Rupert's fingers.

"No, but I suspect if the owl isn't back by a certain time, we'll be visited by some heavily armed Aurors," Hermione replied. "I've read about cases like that in "The Dawn of Law Enforcement: A History of the Aurors." 

Which would explain why she was in such a hurry to finish the paperwork. The owl had a band on its leg, making it easier for Hermione to fasten the form to it. In less than five minutes, the owl was winging its way back to the Ministry.

Hermione fanned herself with Mafalda's letter and said: "If Pigwidgeon's lettr is not an apology, Ron's going to wake up with the fishes, and Mafalda Hopkirk can kiss my…"

"You mean, you'll transfigure him in spite of the Restriction Against Underage Magic?" Rupert asked quickly.

"That's about the size of it, yes," Hermione said grimly. She managed to get the letter off Pigwidgeon's leg with only one tear in it. 

"Can I watch?" Rupert asked blandly. "You realize, if you hit him with the frog curse, somebody's going to have to uncurse him with a kiss… or is that the point?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "DAD!" she said.

Rupert grinned. "So, what did he say?"

Hermione sighed and unfolded Ron's letter. "_Dear Hermione_," she read. "_I am very sorry that I got you mad at me. I seem to be picking fights with everybody, but why should I be any different than the rest of my family, right? Percy and Dad are fighting because Percy, that prat, refuses to believe Harry about You-Know-Who. Mum and the twins are fighting about their career choice. (On top of that, the twins have a mysterious backer who's mysteriously given them a thousand galleons and everybody's back is up about that.)_

"_But enough excuses and I'll say what I should have said the first time. I'm worried about you. I don't like the idea of you traveling when everything's so uncertain and, okay, I'm worried about Viktor's intentions. Sorry, maybe I'm being unfair, but I'm still worried. Please don't be mad at me anymore. Sincerely, Ron_."

"Worried about his intentions," Hermione snorted. "Viktor is a gentleman!"

Rupert raised an eyebrow. "He's also a man. No offense, Hermione, but Viktor is an adult. What he's ready for in a relationship, may not be what you're ready for."

Hermione looked at the letter in her hands and sighed. "Well, yes, I thought about that. I like Viktor, as a friend. I want to get to know him better. And yes, part of that is because he's treated my like an attractive woman. I guess I can't blame Ron for being worried," she said. "I'm a little worried myself. I don't want to give Viktor the wrong idea."

"I'm worried, too," Rupert admitted. "Especially since it looks like it's going to be just you and your mother traveling."

Hermione looked up sharply.

"I'm afraid I have to do some surgery that week."

"It can't wait?" Hermione asked.

Rupert shook his head. "I'm afraid it's waited too long already. If it were an adult patient, I'd refer them to another dentist. However, this is a six-year old boy, and he doesn't want anybody but me."

Hermione had a flash of anger, and she started to protest. Then she an image flashed into her mind: an image of a scared boy going to an unfamiliar dentist for surgery… a boy who looked like younger version of Harry. She shook her head at her own selfishness. "Oh, I'm so sorry you can't go," she said. "But I understand." She fiddled with Ron's letter. "Some things are more important than fun and games."

"I wonder if I can get a refund on my Wizarding transport ticket," Rupert asked lightly. "I'll be sure to ask Professor Dumbledore when he arrives tomorrow."

Hermione sighed with relief. Even with the disappointing news that her father couldn't come to Bulgaria with them, she felt like a very great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Dumbledore was coming to set up some protection for her parents, and she and Ron were talking to each other again.

Weasley Siblings:

They'd grabbed their school gear and had retreated from the Burrow when the twins had come home. The twins had been carrying several bulky packages, some of which looked like new robes, and their mother had oh-too-casually asked the twins if they had any preference as to which department in the ministry they went into.

The upcoming argument was obvious, so Ron and Ginny had headed to their favorite spot next to the brook. Sprawled out under the tree, with just enough of a breeze to keep the heat to a bearable level, and just enough noise from the brook and the idling bees to drown out the heated voices from the house, they could pretend for a while that it was an ordinary summer with nothing worse to worry about than matters of the heart.

"I need a girlfriend," Ginny sighed dramatically. She was lying on her back chewing on one piece of grass and tickling Pixie with another.

"Shouldn't that be _my _line?" Ron asked mildly as he debated how to phrase his letter to Harry. 

"Not that kind of girlfriend," Ginny said. "I mean, the kind that I can confide to about boys. Someone who I can trust. Someone who can give me pointers on Harry."

"That rather narrows the field, doesn't it?" Ron asked.

"True," Ginny flipped over onto her stomach and picked up a quill and pulled a recycled scrap of parchment closer. "Dear Hermione," she said.

"Harry," Ron said, writing.

"What? Not 'Dear Harry?'" Ginny smirked.

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "I don't play on that team," he said. He poked his tongue out as he wrote. "Thank you for offering…"

"Ooo, he made you an _offer_!" Ginny made kissy noises at him. 

Ron threw a worm at her. "Go back to your letter," he said. "Harry, thank you for offering to exchange your Firebolt for my sister, but I'm afraid she's not worth that much."

Ginny giggled, threw the worm back at Ron and picked up her quill. "Dear Hermione, I need your advice."

Pixie was obviously feeling neglected, because she rubbed against Ginny's hand, making her splatter ink all over her paper.

Ginny laughed. "You silly!" she said. She rubbed off the splattered ink and alternated writing with tickling her cat. "First, I have to tell you the good news… I have a cat! A lovely, mostly white, calico. Her name is Pixie and she is a present from…"

"My one true love," Ron interposed.

"I thought you didn't play on that team," Ginny responded. To Hermione, she said. "…Harry. His neighbor gave the cat to his aunt, but she couldn't keep her… I mean the Aunt couldn't keep Pixie because his Uncle and Cousin are allergic. So Harry told them that Pixie was a pixie, though she doesn't look anything like a pixie, and they let him send her to me! She's cute, you'll love her!"

Ron sighed as he worked on his own letter. "… offering to let me use your broom to practice on! I'd love to borrow your Firebolt for the summer, but Mum says I can't have it until I finish all my summer essays. So I guess it's time to show Hermione how fast I can write essays. I can't wait to have the Firebolt here! It would only be better if you came with it!"

"How sweet!" Ginny said.

Ron rolled his eyes at her again. "Ginny thinks it's sweet that you offered to lend me your broom… precious baby broomie… to me. I reckon she still fancies you."

"RON!"

He grinned. "That's for calling me 'sweet'," he said. "Don't worry, I didn't really say that you fancied him. I did say you thought it was sweet of him to lend me the Firebolt."

"I meant it was sweet that he's more important to you than the Firebolt."

"I can't say that!" Ron said in scandalized tones. "Besides, wouldn't you rather compliment him than me?"

Ginny nodded acceptance of that and went back to her own letter. Mostly, she wanted to know Hermione's opinion of the tutoring offer. Was Harry flirting? She also wanted to be sure her explanation of dust bunnies didn't sound too stupid.

Ron was chewing on the end of his quill and wishing he had some sugar quills to munch on. Too bad neither of his correspondents was in a position to send him some. Maybe he should write to Seamus. 

Back to the letter. He wondered if he should bring up the topic of the twins' money again. Harry hadn't responded to the first mention. Possibly because he didn't have anything to say on the subject. Another possibility was that _Harry _was the twins' mysterious backer. 

In fact, the second choice was the only logical explanation Ron could come up with. He knew the twins had been stone broke on the train. And yet, less than a week later, they suddenly had a nest egg exactly the size of the size of the Tri-Wizard Tournament purse that Harry had been trying to get shut of. Really, how _obvious _could it be? 

He just wondered why Harry hadn't told him about it. However, he couldn't think of a tactful way to bring it up, so he decided to wait until he saw Harry in person. Really, there was nothing so conducive to imparting deep, dark secrets as a heart to heart chat and a really strong headlock. 

"Just as well you dropped that note into your soup, mate. I hope you didn't eat the soup! It would probably give you a stomach ache. I was rather rude. Sorry, it's just that everything's been so tense lately that my temper is getting as bad as Snape's. I don't want to think about a play where two teenage lovers die because nobody will listen to them. It hits a little too close to home. See? I do know who Romeo is."

"Besides, everybody knows that Shakespeare was a Squib and that Romeo was in Gryffindor and Juliet was in Slytherin. He just had to change the names of the houses to avoid litigation." That should distract him from this Ron+Hermione nonsense.

Ginny giggled. "Juliet was the Gryffindor!" she protested. 

"You misinterpret Shakespeare your way, and I'll misinterpret him mine," Ron said with dignity. He shook his finger at her. Pixie leaped at the moving target. Ron caught her and rolled over on his back so she could sit on his stomach.

"Who's a good kitty, then?" he asked, rubbing her chin.

Pixie purred and Ginny laughed.

"You should write to Hermione," she said.

"I sent her an apology last night," Ron replied, still petting the cat.

"Good show," Ginny said approvingly. She looked longingly at the house. "D'you suppose the fight's over?"

"I'll check," Ron said, bouncing to his feet. "I'm famished. There's ham left from last night. I'll go make us some sandwiches. You want iced tea, lemonade, pumpkin fizz or pomegranate pop?"

"Iced tea, please," Ginny said. She went back to her letter as Ron loped up to the house. After a few minutes, she heard a shout… 

"Ginny! Help!"

Ginny burst dramatically into the Burrow. Pixie hard on her heels. "What?" she demanded, sliding to a halt. Pixie crashed into her ankles, but Ginny didn't notice. Her mouth dropped open with horror.

The twins had Ron trapped between them, and were threatening him with what looked like a brown velvet robe.

"Let go of him you bullies! _Mum_!" Ginny cried, flourishing her quill threateningly.

"Mum's not home," George said. "It's just the four of us."

"I know that the pen is supposed to be mightier than the sword, but what do you intend to do with that, little sister?" Fred panted as he tried to stuff Ron's arm into the 'robe'.

Ginny ran over and started tickling him with the feather quill.

"Hey! No fair!" Fred gasped, letting go of Ron.

Ron shoved George to the floor and sat on him while Ginny and Pixie chased Fred around the living room.

"What's this do then?" Ron demanded. He shoved the brown, velvety cloth into George's face.

"Well, it's supposed to make you look good," George said with as much dignity he could muster while his younger, but taller and heavier, brother sat on his chest. Frankly, playing jokes on Ron had gotten to be quite a chore these days. "It's a dress robe."

"What's the catch?" Ginny demanded.

"No catch," Fred protested.

He made the mistake of looking at Ginny when he spoke, and he tripped over Pixie. This allowed Ginny to jump on his back. 

"Really," George said. "We try to make you look good, and this is the thanks we get?"

"Don't you trust us?" Fred asked, trying hard to look hurt and innocent.

"Should we?" Ginny demanded. She thumped him on the head with her fist.

"Well, no, but that's not the point!" Fred complained, trying to cover his head with his arms.

"What is the point?" Ron demanded.

The twins heaved twin sighs. 

"Look, we want to go into business," Fred said. "You have to spend money to make money."

"We don't want our family going to fancy parties looking like scarecrows," George threw in. "Our backer wouldn't like it. So we got you and Ginny nice robes to wear to the Yule Ball, which I hear is on for next year."

"Just to make your backer happy?" Ron demanded. 

"Well, yes, that's about the size of it," Fred said.

"Speaking of sizes," George threw in. "Why don't you stop squashing us and get up and try on your new robes?" 

"We swear on Mum's cookbooks that we aren't up to any mischief right now," Fred added.

Ron and Ginny got up, wands at the ready. 

"Well, okay," Ron said, putting his wand down. "Ginny, be ready for anything." And then, he tried on the robe.

###

Author's Notes:

sew2100: Thanks! I think Harry and Ginny would make a good couple, they have so much in common!

Ozma: Thanks for the review! Hope you had a good time at your sister's! ** I love the sound of cliffhangers in the morning! It's the sound of reviews! Yes, there's more than one kind of cliffhanger, isn't there? Glad this one got a scream out of you! ** I have a list of 'Famous People that I Suspect Were Squibs'. Overachievers who set out to show that a lack of 'magic' didn't mean they were useless. Shakespeare is one, Houdini is another. (He couldn't do real magic, so he set out to show that he had his OWN brand of magic.) ** Glad the letter scenes worked. I have fun writing those, it's sort of like MSTing my own story! ** Ginny could give Ron help quickly because she only gave him a general outline. The actual wording is up to Ron. (Note that she's going to 'proof read' it before he mails it.) ** Poor Harry must have some issues, and poor Sirius, too. Got a lovely scene in mind with those two. ** Yes, there's something sinister about Harry's hair, you're beginning to see the pun in this story's title. ** Yes, Harry's getting to be more outspoken as he gets older.

MoNmOn: Thanks for the review! PV is Petunia Victoria, LE is Lily Elizabeth.

Female Fred: Well, there are worse rooms than the attic, though there are probably nicer attics than this one. At least it's bigger than the crawl space we have in our home! (Poor Harry, I can just see Petunia and Vernon putting Harry in the crawlspace.) ** I'll be showing the contents of the trunk, never fear!

shdurrani: Thanks! I intend to keep this going!

katrina: Yes, Petunia was rather civil in this chapter. I figure that one thing that Petunia and Harry have in common is curiosity, for all that Petunia tries to stifle hers (and Harry's and probably Dudley's, too.)

Temporary Insanity: Thanks! I thought that sometimes the best way to deal with an insult is to not hear it. Especially when you have reason to believe that the insult was not sincere.

Chary: Don't worry about getting behind, it happens to everybody. (Especially around this time of year.) This holiday season was unusual for me because I actually had everything finished by noon on Christmas Eve. Unusual not to be sitting under the Christmas tree wrapping presents while everybody else is at church or asleep. ** I think the scariest thing about Petunia and Vernon is that they're so convinced that they're doing the 'right thing.' ** I think the thing I like most about Molly is that she'll always do what she can to help, even if all she can do is knit a sweater. ** Yep, Ron's developing relationship with Hermione is making him sensitive. However, I don't see that he'll stop teasing his siblings over having the same sort of problems. ** Re: "'The whinging cry of *all* brothers, wizard or Muggle!' Actually, I think it's the whinging cry of all elder siblings, male or female, Muggle or Wizarding! ** Well, the cockroaches you see on T.V. series are likely to be a *tad* exaggerated. But the feeling they engender are probably spot on.

Pudadingding: Yes, my mother told me to not bleed on the carpet. It may be, as you said, an attempt to get my mind off the fact that I was bleeding rather profusely. (Enough that I needed stitches, in fact.) I like that theory. ** Thanks, I think there has to be more to the Dursleys than Rowling has shown so far. I can come close to feeling sympathy for Petunia, so I thought I'd use her some more. ** Thanks, my first cat was named Pixie. I decided to use it as a cat name when Emeraldd Star issued at challenge over at GryffindorTower.net to use the line: "Hello little pixie. Can you use your pixie magic to get Harry interested in me?"

Pseudonym Sylphmuse: Thanks for the reviews! Your Ginny stories are adorable! ** Thanks, I try to keep things from being to grim. ** Actually, Tatiana Potter is Harry's grandmother (his father's mother.) 

Chocolate Muse: Thanks! Right now Molly and Dumbledore are having problems with Harry's grey hairs. Harry's just annoyed. ** Not sure how long this story will wind up. I'm expecting at least twenty chapters to get through summer. 

Alla : Thanks! I'm trying to update this fast. Harry wasn't at all happy in Book 4, when he and Ron were on the outs. I figured he's going to try to avoid such fights in the future. ** I thought the idea of Shakespeare being a Squib made as much sense as Bacon writing all of Shakespeare's works. ** I think I've said that poor Harry getting white hairs was inspired by my own experience. I started getting white hairs when I was sixteen. And I only had algebra to deal with. ** It's sad that children get robbed of their childhood because of war. ** Humor is not something that's likely to be left out of my stories. I have a very active sense of humor. (Sorry, humour.)

Christy: Thanks for the review! I'm updating as fast as I can. In the meantime, you can check out my other Harry Potter stories. I just added an epilogue to my "Harry Potter and the Bookwyrm" story, plus I have my As-Sorted Marauders, Planning Ahead and Keeping in Touch. I also have a collaboration with Ozma, as you probably know.

Ian : Thanks for the review! Don't worry about when you read it, they're going to be around for a while! Reviews are always welcome! ** I'm sorry that Harry getting sick makes you feel bad. Sorry to say that things are going to get worse before they get better.

VenusDeOmnipotent: Thanks for the compliments! I try to find a nice balance of humor and angst and action. Glad you found my stories to your taste! (Heck, I'm glad you found my stories at all! It's not easy for any one particular writer to find an audience. I try to help out my favorite writer's by putting them in my favorites list and/or advertising them in my profile.)

Nightw2: don't worry about being busy. I know exactly how that works! Glad you like my story!

A. Lee: Yep, this story is getting updated almost at Ozma-like speed. Lily addressed Petunia by her first and middle initials. They were both married at the time, so Lily would be LEEP and Petunia would be PVED.

Kyle785: Hi! Thanks for the compliments! I'm working on this as fast as I can!

Lady Pheonix Gryffindor: Thanks for the review! Harry is under a lot of stress and it's beginning to have some physical effects on him.


	8. Reach Out and Touch Someone

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  
  
Thank you all for reading and for patiently waiting for the next installment. With any luck, you won't have to wait this long for the next chapter.

  
Happy Valentine's Day!

  
Chapter Eight: Reach Out and Touch Someone  
  


  
Ginny and Her Brothers:  
Ron shrugged on the brown robes and laced them up nervously. He wished that Hermione was there. He was certain that she could undo/reverse/negate anything the twins could dish out. He smoothed down the front of his robes nervously. Nothing happened. He looked at the twins, but they merely watched him curiously. There was none of the eager anticipation they exuded when they were waiting for a prank payoff.  
  
Pixie sniffed at the hem of his robe and Ginny circled him, wand drawn, ready for anything. "I don't see anything sprouting, growing, shrinking or changing color," she said. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Depressed, dejected, and disheartened," George said.  
  
"And close to tears," Fred added. "Our youngest siblings no longer trust us." He sniffed loudly.  
  
"I never trusted you," Ron said absently. "I don't feel any different," he said to Ginny. He held out his arms and admired the way the sleeves hung.   
  
"I'm astonished," Ginny confessed. "These not only look legitimate, they look good on you."  
  
"You think?" Ron went to the kitchen to check himself out in the mirror over the mantel.   
  
The mirror let out a wolf whistle. "You'll have _all _the little witches at Hogwarts swooning over you!"  
  
Ron was taken aback, to say the least, and not just because the mirror was flirting with him. The velvety robes were chocolate brown, with gold detailing at the hems and collar. The design was simple, but there was something about the cut that made him look taller and his shoulders look broader. Or maybe it was the way he was holding himself. Now he _really _wished Hermione was there.   
  
"Add a clean shirt… white would give this a classic look," Ginny murmured as she fussed with the front of his robe. "Then all you need are some decent shoes and you're set. The color is perfect for you." She fingered the material. "Is that velvet?" she asked.  
  
"They bring out the color of your eyes," Fred added, half-ducking as Ron aimed a desultory swat at him.  
  
"Well, actually, it's velour," George said to Ginny. "The velvet was out of our price range."  
  
"That's okay," Ron said, memories of maroon velvet pricking at the back of his mind. He pushed them back. He bet Fleur wouldn't be so quick to dismiss him in these robes! Not that she'd ever see them, he told himself. Not that it really mattered that she wouldn't, either. _Hermione _would see them.   
  
Fred circled Ron, examining the hang of the robes. "Nice, looks like we got 'em big enough."  
  
"Maybe a little too big," George said.   
  
"They need hemming, but otherwise they're fine," Ginny opined.  
  
"Okay, little sister," George said. "It's time for _you _to try your robes on."  
  
Ginny hesitated.  
  
"Prove the Sorting Hat was right to put you into Gryffindor," George urged.   
  
"What if I've decided to join Ravenclaw?"   
  
"Too late," Ron said. "I tried mine on; now try on yours."  
  
"We got your robes second-hand," Fred put in apologetically. "We didn't like the looks of the new dress robes and we thought this color would be good on you."   
  
"Madam Gretchen said they were the perfect color for your complexion," George said.  
  
"Well, for _our _complexion," Fred amended. "But yours is the same as ours. So they should look good on you."  
  
Ginny studied the twins for a minute, wondering why they were babbling. She peeked into the box, but all she could see was white tissue paper.  
  
"Would you _please _go try on your robes?" George urged Ginny. "I swear, on our backer's honor, that they won't blow up, cause you to change color, or anything nasty at all. Trust me?"  
  
"Not unless you want to tell me who your backer is," Ginny said dryly. She propped the box against her hip and tapped a toe. She had a guess about the identity of the mystery backer, but she wasn't going to let on.  
  
Fred and George exchanged looks. "He doesn't want his name associated with a joke shop," Fred said.  
  
"Then why is he backing you?"   
  
Fred and George exchanged another look, then a shrug.   
  
"How about we swear on your boyfriend's Firebolt?" Fred asked slyly, in an effort to take Ginny's mind off their backer.  
  
Ginny glared murderously.  
  
"Erm, we swear on our hopes for winning another Quidditch Cup?" Not wanting to die at his young age, Fred backed away from Ginny, tripped and sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
Ginny shifter her gaze from Fred to George (who held up his hands in surrender) to Ron (who was still un-pranked). Then she sighed and took the box up to her room so she could change. (It was unfair, really, wizards could just pull on their robes over the casual clothes, but witches' robes usually took more effort.)  
  
The effort proved worthwhile. The silky under robe was high necked and sleeveless. The gauzy over robe had sleeves that gathered just above the elbow and then fanned out in pleats. The under robe would make peacocks envious with the way the blues and the greens melted together. The over robe was a paler shade that blended the blues and greens together like a masterpiece from Monet.  
  
Ginny laced up the back of the under robe rather clumsily and turned to check out the effect in her mirror, and gaped. The color of the robes made her hair look all coppery instead of the usual hideous orange. Damn, the robes even made her bloody _freckles_ look good!   
  
"Honey, if that doesn't knock Potter's eyes out, he is _BLIND_!" her mirror said.  
  
Ginny snorted, but didn't answer. She was too busy arranging her robes so she wouldn't trip on her hems. She also had to roll up her sleeves so she could use her hands to put her hair up. She tried a couple of different styles before deciding on a high pony tail.  
  
"Ginny, are you all right?" Ron called up the stairs.  
  
Ginny shot a look at her clock, which read, 'Still Preening' and realized that she'd been taking her sweet time about this. No wonder Ron was worried. "Coming!" she called gaily and she stepped daintily down the stairs to show her brothers.   
  
Ron was standing at the foot of the stairs, and the twins were a few paces behind him. The shocked expressions on their faces caused Ginny to falter and slow to a stop.  
  
"What?" she asked, suddenly nervous. Did she look ridiculous?  
  
"Ginny?" Ron said in a strangely husky voice.  
  
Oh, no, the twins had pulled one over on her! What had they done?  
  
But the twins were just as goggle-eyed. "Erm, Ginny, I, we, erm, you," George stammered.  
  
Fred was the one who blurted out the appalling truth. "You're a _GIRL_!"  
  
Ginny turned on her heel, hiked up her robes and marched back to her room.   
  
The boys heard her door slam and then the muffled… but not muffled enough… sound of their little sister laughing herself sick. They exchanged dismayed looks.  
  
"We are *_never* _going to live this down," Ron predicted gloomily.  
  
  
Hermione on Her Own:  
The owl from McGonagall hadn't been helpful.   
  
_"Dear Miss Granger, I do applaud your work ethic, however, summer break is for rest and relaxation. I suggest you do both."  
_  
McGonagall expected her to rest and _relax_? After all that had _happened_ last year?   
  
Hermione sighed. Then Hermione paced as she tried to come up with something to do. She'd been studying Bulgarian in preparation for her trip, and thought she could at least ask for directions, if she needed to. She picked up her phrase book, and then put it down. She looked at the neat pile of school books on her desk and wondered, again, if there was anyway to get a jump on next year's coursework. She'd finished all her essays, of course, even the optional extra-credit essays. She'd written to Prof. McGonagall for more work and had received that rather sniffy reply.  
  
She paced over to her bookcases and began studying titles. Ron would laugh, she knew, but she didn't care. Reading was one thing that could usually calm her down; her books were like old friends. So she picked one at random, flipped it open, read a few sentences and then slammed it shut. Maybe War and Peace wasn't the best novel to calm her nerves.  
  
She ran her finger along the spines and read the titles. "Robin Hood? No, Robin dies in the end. How about mythology? That might even prove useful, considering the sort of thing one might encounter in the Wizard world. How about The Labors of Hercules? No, that's a bad choice, considering how he died. Maybe she should read The Ring of the Nibelung or Beowulf? No those were other cases of the hero dying. The Iliad... no, too many people died in that. The Odyssey… has same problem. Le Morte D'Arthur speaks for itself.**  
  
**She glared at her bookcases. She knew she had novels with upbeat endings, but suddenly she didn't feel like looking. Feeling like one of her best friends had betrayed her, Hermione stalked downstairs, itching for a fight. She'd decided on the battleground before her feet hit the first step. She was going to talk to Harry, and if those idiotic relatives of his thought they could stop her, they had another think coming.  
  
  
Harry and Lily:  
It was ridiculous, and he knew it. He should just unpack the trunk. It had belonged to his mother. His aunt, his mother's sister, said that he could have it. It responded to his touch like, well, like magic. (Leaving him to wonder why no owls were coming from Mafalda Hopkirk, was she sleeping on the job?) So why didn't he just unpack it and find out what was in there?  
  
He rationalized his hesitation by telling himself that he had to put work before pleasure. He figured that it would take a few weeks to finish his summer essays and was astonished at how fast he could write when he put his mind to it. Rather, he was astonished how fast he could write when he wasn't putting his mind to it. He wasn't sure if he was spelling the words correctly, or using proper grammar, or even writing on the correct subject. He just needed something to keep his eyes and fingers busy, even if he couldn't quite focus his mind.  
  
Harry lost track of how often he left his homework to stare at the trunk. Here was something his mother had once owned. He didn't have anything of hers. He wanted something of hers. No, he wanted something _important _of hers, something that had been as important to her as the Invisibility Cloak had been to his father.  
  
His mouth thinned, an observer would have seen a definite resemblance between Harry and Petunia just then, but Harry wasn't looking into a mirror. *Don't be ridiculous, Potter. There can't be anything of _value_ in here. She wouldn't have left it with the Dursleys if there was anything _valuable_ inside. After all, she wanted to leave _me _with _Sirius_.* He paused. *Or was that all Dad's idea? I really don't know what Mum thought about him.*  
  
Right now, the trunk had potential. There could be anything in there. But once he looked and found… nothing… then the mystery would be gone, the potential would be gone, and his mother would be gone… again.  
  
He sat down and stared at his homework. He couldn't write to his friends about this. He couldn't figure out how to put his reservations into words. What he really wanted was somebody to talk to. He looked at the stairs. Aunt Petunia had been unusually polite, at times quite civilized, to him. Harry suspected that she was lonely. Maybe she could be persuaded to talk about his parents a bit, now, before…  
  
The front door banged open. "Petunia, we're home!"  
  
Harry, hearing his window of opportunity slam shut, sighed heavily. He looked at his homework and gave up. He just couldn't think. He moved over to the window and looked up. The sun was setting and the stars would be coming out soon. He shook his head and muttered to himself. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." _Someone to talk to._  
  
  
Someone To Talk To:  
Hermione was organized. She planned ahead. She had a place for everything and made sure everything was put in place. It took her less than a minute to lay hands on Harry's phone number… well, the Dursleys' phone number. It was in her file of second year homework assignments.  
  
"Mum, Dad, may I call Harry?" she asked as she came downstairs.  
  
"Certainly," her mother said absently, absorbed as she was in her book.  
  
Hermione rehearsed her speech while she waited for someone to answer. She had a few thinly veiled threats in case the Dursleys were reluctant to let Harry talk to her. Nothing too alarming, just enough to make them nervous, she hoped.  
  
The phone was answered by a gruff-voiced male. "Yes, may I help you?"  
  
"I would like to speak to Harry Potter, please," Hermione had decided to start out politely.  
  
"Wrong number," growled the man. Then the line went dead.  
  
Stunned, Hermione hung up. Had she wrote the number wrong?  
  
"What's wrong dear?" her mother asked.  
  
"I got a wrong number," she said. She sat down at the table and sighed. Crookshanks jumped into her lap and bumped his head against her hand. "I must have made a mistake when I wrote this down."  
  
Her mother sat down and patted her arm. "Maybe their number has changed, Hermione," she suggested. "When did Harry give it to you?"  
  
"Oh," Hermione said. "He gave us his number…" she paused. "… just after first year." She frowned at her father as he came in.  
  
"What's wrong? More of the 'boys are all prats' essay?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I was trying to call Harry, but I got a wrong number," Hermione said. "I don't know what to do now, unless Ron still has his number somewhere."  
  
Rupert's eyebrows went up. "And _you_ were the one who got three hundred and twenty percent in Muggle Studies?" he teased. He went to the telephone. "Do you know the Dursleys' address?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, yes, it's in that folder next to the phone," Hermione replied.  
  
Rupert flipped the folder open as he dialed. Hermione and Emma heard him asking directory assistance for the Dursleys phone number.   
  
Hermione blushed. How could she have forgotten that? Maybe she should have stuck to Muggle Studies after all.  
  
Rupert jotted down the response and thanked the operator, then came over to the table. "Here, is this the number that you have?" he asked, handing her the paper.  
  
Hermione compared the two numbers, and then she frowned. "Yes, I had it right."  
  
"Perhaps you misdialed?" Rupert said.  
  
Hermione looked at the touch tone telephone and raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Yes, yes," Rupert said impatiently. "I know that isn't a rotary telephone. That's a figure of speech, all right? Let me try." He turned on the speaker so his girls could hear the conversation and then took great care in dialing the numbers. Soon he was speaking to a gruff-voiced man. "Good evening, Mr. Vernon Dursley?"  
  
"Speaking."  
  
"I'm calling on behalf of the Boy Scouts of Great Britain. May I ask how many boys under the age of seventeen live in your household?"  
  
"One!" snarled Vernon Dursley. "He's not interested in your organization!" The next sound was the phone being slammed down.  
  
"What a nasty person," Rupert said.  
  
Emma snorted. "I can't believe he lied."  
  
"Maybe he can't count," Hermione said darkly. "Harry's always said they were a bit dim."  
  
"Normally, I wouldn't encourage young folk to insult their elders, Moppet, but I think Harry has obviously been provoked by those…"  
  
"DAD! Don't call me MOPPET!" Hermione looked around, a horrified expression on her face as if she expected Ron and Harry to suddenly appear and laugh. "What are we going to do now?"  
  
Rupert thought of a quote that he thought was especially fitting. "I think this situation requires a really futile and stupid gesture! And we're just the people to do it!"  
  
"Dear, why don't we try reason and diplomacy before we go make fools of ourselves?" Emma asked gently.  
  
"Emma, we're dealing with idiots," Rupert responded. "Besides, my way is more fun."  
  
"Dad, you sound like Ron," Hermione sighed.  
  
"Must be why you fell in love with him."  
  
"DAD!"  
  
"You keep calling me that," Rupert said, pretending to be aggrieved. "And in that tone, too. If you keep it up, you'll be hurting my feelings in a year or two."  
  
Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Mum, _why_ did you marry him?"  
  
"It was a triumph of hormones over intellect," Emma confessed, in affected tones. "So let that be a lesson to you when you start dating." She stood up decisively. "Let's see if a woman to woman chat can't clear this up." She also turned the speaker on, and when the phone was answered, she asked the shrill voice that answered if she could speak to Mrs. Petunia Dursley.  
  
"Speaking," whined the nasty voice.  
  
"Hello, my husband and I are renting a house in your neighborhood and we've been told that your son does yard work," Emma was still speaking in her pseudo-posh tones.  
  
"NO! My Dudley doesn't do menial work," snapped Petunia.  
  
"Perhaps your nephew would be interested?"  
  
"NO!"   
  
Petunia cut the conversation off by slamming the phone down.   
  
Emma scowled for a moment before saying: "Very well, Rupert, let's try it your way. And do be obnoxious about it."  
  
Rupert grinned and Hermione was struck by her father's similarity to Ron. Oh, dear, maybe she was attracted? Oh, dear.  
  
Rupert put the telephone on rang up the Dursleys once again. When the gruff voiced Vernon answered, Rupert said in a falsetto voice. "Do you have Prince Albert in a can?"  
  
Vernon didn't bother to answer; he just smashed the phone down.  
  
"Rupert!" Emma laughed. "That was so… so…"  
  
"It's a _classic_!" Rupert responded.   
  
Hermione looked at them blankly.  
  
"Prince Albert in a Can is a brand of tobacco," Rupert explained. "If the poor unfortunate says 'yes,' then the prank caller is supposed to say 'Well, ask him to get out, I have to go!'"  
  
Hermione looked faintly outraged. "Is that supposed to be _funny_?"  
  
"To certain minds, that is the height of humour," Emma said. "To most normal people, it's just annoying."  
  
"You did ask for 'obnoxious,'" Rupert pointed out.  
  
"You were going to do that even before I asked for obnoxious," Emma said.  
  
"I live to anticipate your needs, my love," Rupert said in unctuous tones.  
  
Emma just laughed.  
  
"Honestly, you two are as bad as the Weasley twins!" Hermione exclaimed.   
  
"You're the one who's been telling us what horrible people the Dursleys are," Rupert said.   
  
"Well, yes. And I'm not saying that they don't deserve every nasty prank you and/or the Weasley twins can come up with. However, I don't see how this is going to get me the chance to talk to Harry."  
  
"Well, my plan, such as it is, is a matter of probability," Rupert answered. "There are four people living in that house. Assuming that Harry is, in fact, at Privet Drive, I figure that odds are, sooner or later, Harry will have to answer the phone."  
  
"Unless he's locked in his room again," Hermione said darkly.  
  
Emma and Rupert exchanged looks.   
  
"If Harry doesn't ever answer the phone," Rupert said. "Then we shall apply logic and diplomacy."  
  
"We'll also write to, sorry, owl the Weasley twins," Emma said demurely.  
  
Hermione gaped at her mother.   
  
"I can't see how we can get in trouble for using magic on Muggles," Emma continued blandly. "After all, _we're_ Muggles, too. We can't use magic."  
  
Hermione's eyes were as wide as Galleons. After a few minutes, she found her voice. "I've created a monster," she said.  
  
Her parents laughed.  
  
"Sorry, my dear, but the ugly truth is out. Your father and I were young once and every now and then, we have a flashback. It's my turn on the phone," Emma said, picking up the handset.   
  
A new voice answered, one that had to be Dudley. It was an obnoxious blend of Vernon's sullen growl and Petunia's petulant whine. "Yeah?"  
  
"Hello, is this the International House of Pancakes?" Emma said in an equally nasal voice.  
  
"Huh? No," Dudley answered before hanging up.  
  
"I think that's the first time that phone has been hung up properly all evening," Emma murmured.  
  
Rupert moved forward, but Emma waved him back. "No, it's still my turn," she said mischievously. She dialed quickly and when Petunia answered, she said: "_Govorite li angliski_?"  
  
Petunia huffed and hung up.  
  
"Where did that come from?" Rupert laughed.  
  
"Well, shouldn't the International House of Pancakes be getting calls from all over the world?" Emma asked.  
  
"It's Bulgarian," Hermione put in. "It means 'Do you speak English?'"  
  
"Ah, been brushing up for the trip, have you?"  
  
"Haven't you?" Emma asked, slightly taken aback.  
  
Rupert shook his head, picked up the note pad by the phone and started writing. "Dear Ron, she gets it from her mum. So sorry, old boy."  
  
"_Honestly_, Rupert," Emma scolded, pulling the paper out of his hand and ripping up the sheet.  
  
"My turn!" Rupert said happily. He thought for several minutes, sighed, and then called the Dursleys', still using the speaker phone. When Dudley answered, Rupert said: "_Eil Beurla agad_?"  
  
"And that was?" Emma asked, after Dudley had hung up.  
  
"'Do you speak English?' Only this time in Gaelic," Rupert replied. "I couldn't remember how to ask where the loo was."  
  
Emma shook her head, but refrained from making a comment.  
  
"My turn," Hermione said. "Hang on a moment." She went into the library and came back with a German-English dictionary. After a few minutes study, she called the Dursleys and politely said to Petunia: "_Wo ist die Kammer des Schreckens_?"  
  
"Go away!" snarled Petunia. 'Clang!' went the phone.  
  
"Where is the Chamber of Secrets?" Emma translated with a giggle.  
  
Hermione grinned. "Well, it was on _everybody's_ mind a few years ago."  
  
"My turn!" Rupert said snatching the telephone away from his daughter. This time, when Vernon answered, Rupert bellowed at the top of his lungs: "**_Yo, Homey! Wassup_**!!? "  
  
"Clang!"  
  
"Dad! What was THAT?" Hermione said when she could stop laughing long enough to catch her breath.  
  
"I understand that's how Americans greet each other," Rupert said with dignity.  
  
"Rupert, you've been watching the telly too much," Emma chided, grinning broadly.  
  
They sat around trying to think of a way to top that last one. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.  
  
"I have one," she said. Once again, she rang up the Dursleys line. When Petunia answered, Hermione sang, as shrilly and off key as she could.  
  
_Allons enfants de la Patrie  
Le jour de gloire est arrivé  
Contre nous de la tyrannie  
L'étendard sanglant est levé  
L'étendard sanglant est levé  
_  
Petunia hung up at that point, so Hermione finished La Marseillaise in her normal voice.   
  
_Entendez vous dans les campagnes mugir ces féroces soldats  
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras, égorger vos fils, vos compagnes  
Aux armes citoyens!  
Formez vos bataillons!  
Marchons, marchons, qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons!  
_  
Her parents applauded.  
  
"I'm glad you remembered the French anthem," Rupert said with genuine pride. "Now what?"  
  
"I have an Esperanto – English dictionary," Emma said. "Let me look up a phrase."  
  
"You could just make up some gibberish," Rupert pointed out. "They wouldn't know."  
  
"I would know," Emma answered haughtily as she headed for the library. She found a phrase that she liked and rang up the Dursleys.  
  
The telephone rang for several minutes.  
  
"Looks like we've outworn our welcome," Emma said unhappily.  
  
Just then, the phone was picked up and a pleasantly husky voice spoke. "Hello, Dursley residence."  
  
The voice was so unlike the other three that it had to be Harry's. However, Hermione frowned uncertainly. "Harry?" she said.  
  
"Hermione? Have you been making prank calls all evening?" Harry sounded amused.  
  
"Well, I wanted to talk to you and those Durlseys were being impossible," Hermione said rather defensively.  
  
Harry laughed. "You don't have to justify your actions to me," Harry said. "I'm the one who's always complaining about them."  
  
"I can see why," Rupert commented.  
  
"Eh? Who's that?" Harry asked.  
  
"Sorry to intrude," Rupert said. "You're on the speaker phone. Hermione's mother and I wanted to help her get through to you. I confess, most of the pranks were ours."  
  
"Must be where she gets it," Harry murmured.  
  
"Excuse me? Get what?" Hermione demanded.  
  
"Tell me again how you got the recipe book to make that… what was that shape-shifting potion again?" Emma asked 'innocently.'  
  
"Poly-juice potion," Harry supplied. "Which we got from 'Most Potente Potions' which we got…"  
  
"Harry, do you know why I called?"  
  
"Erm, no," Harry said.  
  
"I'm beginning to wonder myself," Hermione said darkly. "Are you all right?"  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"I thought not," Hermione said. "You're voice sounds funny."  
  
Harry laughed. "Oh, that. I must have dropped it."  
  
"You dropped your _voice_?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Well, how else could it have broken?" Rupert threw in.  
  
Rupert and Harry shared a laugh. Hermione and Emma sighed audibly. Hermione picked up the note pad next to the telephone and wrote 'Boys are born prats, discuss' and she and her mother shared a grin over that.  
  


  
***

  
  
Author's Notes:  
As you may have figured out, I've been having writer's block. The part with Harry exploring the trunk is just NOT working. So I shuffled chapters around so as not to keep you waiting any longer. If you want a sneak preview of what he's going to find… one of the items was mentioned earlier in this story. Another was mentioned in my other story 'Harry Potter and the Bookwyrm.' (If you really don't want to read the whole thing, just read the epilogue.)  
  
I was planning to include Hermione and Harry's phone conversation this time, too. Sigh.  
  
Rupert's quote is from National Lampoon's Animal House. All foreign quotes are faithfully tendered. No, that's not how most Americans normally greet each other. Yes, that is the actual French national anthem that Hermione was singing. No, I don't speak anything but English, myself. I got these translations online at .  
  
By the way, prank calls are annoying, don't try this at home. Telephone calls can be traced too easily nowadays.  
  
Special thanks to:   
sew2100, Allison, Angel of the North: I'll try to keep up the good work!  
  
Female Fred: Yep, they seem fundamentally nice to me, for all they're joking. They're a lot of fun to write!  
  
Elektra Joradees Gamblin: I intend to keep it up! Hopefully at a faster pace!  
  
Chocolate Muse: My holidays were fun, thank you! I actually finished all my holiday chores early, as opposed to finishing at one o'clock in the morning on Christmas, maybe I was channeling Hermione. ** Speaking of Hermione, just because she's had a set back doesn't mean she's defeated! ** I am actually basing Hermione's father on Ron. I figure girl's are frequently attracted to guys who remind them of their fathers. ;-) ** Sorry this chapter took so long!  
  
Ozma: I agree, there must have been times when Lily and Petunia got along. Sirius thought that Harry would want to stay with the Dursleys, so he must have had some reason to think that Lily and Petunia liked each other. ** Hermione seems the type to always have a plan. ** I hope Rowling shows more of Hermione's parents. They're jake in my book, even though I know almost nothing about them. They let Hermione stay at Hogwarts for Christmas when everybody thought Sirius was trying to kill Harry. I figure that showed proper Gryffindor spirit. ** I hope the Ministry is paying attention to what's going on with the Muggle born, even if Fudge is an idiot. I figure one reason Harry wasn't in trouble after he blew up his aunt was because he used involuntary magic. ** Yep, the twins figured if Harry wanted them to get new robes for Ron, then they should get new robes for Ginny, too. ** I like writing Ron and Ginny. I hope Rowling does more with Ginny next book.   
  
Ian: I understand. If it makes you feel better, Harry will be compensated (big time!) for all the misery that I'm putting him through.  
  
Lady Phoenix Gryffindor: Well, his hair's not all white, or even mostly white. It's mostly its usual (canon) messy black. He's just got a few white streaks. I figure he's earned them.  
  
Iniysa: I'm going to try to make your next wait a lot shorter!  
  
Alla: Glad you like my Ginny and Ron interaction. I really like those two and I hope to see more of them in canon. I figure that being so close in age, they must be pretty close. I also figure that accepting gifts from the twins is a risky proposition at best, and downright foolish at worse.  
  
Andrea13: Yep, Petunia is more human when Vernon and Dudley aren't around, but the gin is! Can you just see Ron trying to gently persuade Harry into confessing by half throttling him? But I'm sure it's not just a guy thing, I've been tempted to do this myself.  
  
Chary: Thanks, I'm trying to update regularly. ** I thought that it would make sense for the Ministry to check up on wandless magic during the summer. Usually it's caused by emotional distress and I'd liked to think that the Wizarding community would care if a child was upset enough to have to defend himself or herself that way. ** Thanks for the comments on the interaction between Ron and Ginny. They've been a blast to write so far. ** Yes, Dumbledore's visit is actually written. I was going to post it after Harry explored the trunk, but it might come sooner. ** One more hint as to what's in the trunk… you might consider the time of year. It's something a lot of people do that time of year. ** _You're_ impatient? (Looks at 'Beloved on This Earth' for an update and taps her foot impatiently.)   
  
Shyanne: I'm updating as fast as I can! Honest!  
  
Brad: Thanks! I'm rather proud of my grammar and spelling skills! (And having a spellchecker doesn't hurt at all.) ** Glad you like the humor!  
  
VenusDeOmnipotent: I actually do check out the favorite list of my favorite writers.   
MoNmOn: Thanks! It seemed to me that if the twins were going to buy Ron some new dress robes, they may as well buy something for Ginny, too. (I wonder if Rowling will think of doing that? I hope so.)  
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse: I try to review all the stories that I like. Your Ginny stories are fun to read. I haven't really written any romance into this story, yet. I may not get any in this summer. I was sort of planning for the actual romance to come during the school year. (Got to get cracking and finish before June 21st!)  
  
Aniwda: Glad you like how I handle Ron and Ginny! Siblings are my specialty!  
  
allison : With any luck, the next updates will come closer together! I have to finish soon!  
  
Malach: Glad you like the story! Summer is going to be very interesting for the kids in my universe. I can hardly wait to see what J.K. has in store for them!  
  



	9. Friendly Voices

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

  
Chapter Nine: Friendly Voices

  
Harry and Hermione on the Phone:  
"You're voice _broke_?" Hermione squeaked out before she realized what Harry and her father were talking about.  
  
"Erm, yes," Harry said. He gave a little cough as if he was embarrassed, or was trying to cover up a laugh.  
  
"Breaking voices is one of those little embarrassing things we men have to face when we grow up, Hermione," Rupert said in a patronizing tone.  
  
Hermione and Emma exchanged glances then looked down their noses at Rupert.  
  
"Rupert, dear, if you want to know about _embarrassing changes_, you should hear the list of what we women have to go through. First of all…" Emma started.  
  
"Thank you for calling," Harry interrupted hastily. There was a hint of panic in his voice. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, Hermione; and to speak to you as well, Mr. and Mrs. Granger."  
  
"The pleasure is all ours, Harry," Emma said.  
  
"It's good to hear you, too, Harry. Speaking of voices, have you been running?" Hermione asked. "You sound out of breath."  
  
"Well, I had to run from the attic," Harry confessed.   
  
"Why were you in the attic?" Emma wanted to know.  
  
"Well, I'd been helping my aunt clean up a bit," Harry said. "And, by way of reward, the attic is now my home away from Hogwarts."  
  
"What, you're too big to fit in the closet nowadays?" Hermione asked darkly.  
  
"Something like that," Harry said dryly. "It's not as bad as it could be, though."  
  
"Where are the Dursleys?" Rupert put in. "From the way you're talking, you sound like you're the only one at home."  
  
"Yes, I am the only one in the house at the moment," Harry said. There was a distinct grin in his voice. "My uncle decided that they should celebrate their first day home by going to the cinema. I think the _phone_ has been bothering them."  
  
Hermione and Rupert chuckled, but Emma was distracted by the first part of Harry's comment.  
  
"Celebrate their first day home? Have you been all alone? How long were they gone?" Emma asked, concerned.  
  
"Oh, no, Mrs. Granger," Harry said. "Uncle Vernon and Dudley went off somewhere by themselves. Aunt Petunia and I were here. It was actually rather peaceful with just the two of us."  
  
"Ginny said that she gave you permission to send her..." Hermione stopped mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm being unclear. Ginny said your aunt gave you permission to send Ginny a cat."  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "She was actually quite gracious about it. One of our neighbors gave Aunt Petunia a cat, but she couldn't keep her because Dudley and my uncle are allergic. Hang on a moment…" There was a scrape of wood, like a window being opened.   
  
Then Harry let out a yelp. This was followed by banging and squeaking and thudding noises.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione called anxiously. "Harry? What is it?"  
  
There was an enormous crash and then… "YOU BLOODY IDIOT!"  
  
"Harry?" Hermione raised her voice a little to be heard.  
  
"Sorry for the language," Harry panted into the phone, mistaking her concern for censure. "Gah! _Idiotic! Hyperactive! Feather duster_!" he bellowed, somewhat farther away from the phone. "I'm back," he said in calmer tones.  
  
"I take it Pigwidgeon has arrived," Hermione said smiling broadly. "What did you break?"  
  
"Nothing, I hope," Harry sighed. "I knocked over the CD cabinet in my pursuit of that feathery pest. I don't think anything broke."  
  
Hermione giggled. "Pigwidgeon got tangled up in my hair last time he delivered a letter to me."  
  
"At least he didn't knock you out," Harry replied. "He bounced off my head and knocked me cold last time he was here."  
  
Hermione frowned. "But Harry…"  
  
"At least in the attic I'll be spared that sort of thing. The windows are too high for me to look out directly. No more bumper owls for me." There was a slight rustling of paper. "Hold _still_ you… ahem." Harry was obviously having trouble removing the letter and trouble remembering he had an audience. "Pig's being difficult about this letter. He keeps sticking his foot in my face, but he won't hold still long enough for me to get it."  
  
"Maybe Ron told him the message was very important," Emma suggested.  
  
"Likely," Harry agreed. "Ron's probably writing to tell me that I can send him my Firebolt." There was more rustling and hooting from Pigwidgeon and muttered comments from Harry.  
  
"You're getting rid of your Firebolt?" Hermione asked in shock.  
  
"Are you getting a better broom?" Rupert asked curiously.  
  
"No to both questions," Harry said. "I just thought it was a shame that the Firebolt had to sit in the closet all summer, so I'm going to send it to Ron. He can practice on it."  
  
"That's awfully sporting of you, my boy," Rupert said. "Is there a special reason Ron needs practice this year?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. He sounded cheerful, as he always did when talking about Quidditch. "Our Keeper left last year, sorry, year before last, and we're going to need a replacement."  
  
"I see," Rupert said. "One of my burning ambitions is to see you play in a Quidditch match. I wonder if Dumbledore would let me come to see one sometime."  
  
"That would be brilliant!" Harry said in flattered tones. "You'd have a great time, I'm sure. HEY!"  
  
The next sound made Hermione think of exploding pillows.  
  
"Well, that's taken care of _that_," Harry was laughing so much he could barely talk. "You really picked a good time to call; things haven't been this amusing around here for years."  
  
"What happened?" Emma asked.  
  
"Errol just flew in… Has Hermione told you about him?"  
  
"Oh, yes, he's the Weasleys' rather ancient owl, isn't he?" Rupert said.  
  
"Yes, he has a tendency to collapse at the end of each delivery," Harry had to pause to laugh again. "This time he collapsed right on top of Pig… I wish I had a camera… I do hope I can clean up all these feathers before the Dursleys get home." He didn't really sound alarmed. "Pig does not sound at all happy -- you can leave my mother out of this, you feathery git-- but at least I can get Ron's letter off his foot."   
  
Rupert and Emma exchanged looks.  
  
"Can you talk to owls, Harry?" Emma asked.  
  
"No, not really, I was just guessing," Harry said. There was a pause and then Harry added. "You know, I think Errol did that deliberately. At least, he's looking very pleased with himself, and he doesn't look inclined to move. I'm afraid I'm going to have to hang up so I can see to them."  
  
"That's all right, Hermione call back in about ten minutes, then," Rupert said.  
  
"Really?" Harry was clearly taken aback. "I mean, thanks, that's…" his voice trailed off.  
  
"That's all right, Harry," Rupert said. "The pleasure is all ours."  
  
Rupert and Emma exchanged a look that Hermione couldn't interpret, but apparently communicated a lot of information between them.  
  
Rupert spoke again. "Oh, Harry, are you familiar with reversing charges?"  
  
"Erm, excuse me?" Harry sounded uncertain.  
  
"You call the operator give her, or him, our number and say that you wish to reverse the charges. That way you can call us, but the expense won't show up on your Uncle's phone bill."  
  
"Oh," Harry said blankly. "But I'm not usually home alone."  
  
"That's all right, dear," Emma said gently. "You can call when the Dursleys are in bed. Call us anytime."  
  
"We mean that, Harry," Rupert said seriously. "If you feel in need of a friendly voice, you call us, even at 2 AM, you understand?"  
  
"Erm, yes," Harry's voice was sounding croaky all of a sudden. "Thank you."  
  
"Think nothing of it," Rupert said, almost brusquely. "Now see to those poor owls and Hermione will be calling you back directly."  
  
After they made sure Harry had their number, hung up, Hermione flung her arms around her father's neck. "You are the most brilliant, wonderful man in the whole universe!"  
  
"I second that," Emma said, throwing her arms around him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "That poor, brave boy. I do see why you have chosen to spend the past few Christmas holidays at Hogwarts, Hermione. There's just something appealing about him."  
  
"Perhaps that's why You-Know-Who is afraid of him," Rupert murmured the best he could with feminine arms cutting off his air supply. "Not because of his power, but because of his charisma."  
  
"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully. It gave her something to think about as she waited the allotted ten minutes before calling Harry back.  
  
"Hello? Hermione?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes, I'm back," Hermione said.  
  
"What your parents said, about calling them, I mean," Harry stopped. "I mean, that's awfully nice of them…" he trailed off uncertainly.  
  
"I understand," Hermione said gently.  
  
"I hope not," Harry said, almost to himself. "I mean, nevermind, thank them again for me, it means a lot to me."  
  
Hermione didn't need a dictionary to work out Harry's meaning. '_I hope you're never so lonely that a simple invitation to call can reduce you to tears_.'  
  
"I wish there was something I could do to repay them," Harry added, somewhat wistfully.  
  
"Well, one thing you could do is remember how much you mean to people next time you're tempted to try something stupid," Hermione said. Then she thought about the Tri-Wizard Tournament and hastily added something she hoped would take Harry's mind off that. "You know, like trying that wonky-faint thing during Quidditch Practice."  
  
"Her-MI-o-NEEEE!" protested Harry. "That's _Wronsky_ Feint!"  
  
Hermione giggled.  
  
"You say that _just_ to annoy me," Harry accused.  
  
"I have to do _something_," Hermione insisted. "You're so much harder to rile than Ron."  
  
"You've been exposed to the Weasley clan too long," Harry said.  
  
"I've noticed that, but it's not all from them. My Dad is as bad as Ron any day."  
  
"Well, one day you're going to slip and say 'wonky-faint' in front of Ron and I just hope I have a camera in my hand when you do." Harry was recovering his composure, Hermione noted with relief.  
  
"Speaking of Ron, what do Ron and Ginny have to say in their letters?"  
  
"Hm, the twins bought Ron and Ginny dress robes," Harry said.  
  
"Really?" Hermione said. "How sweet of them, and how out of character."  
  
"Fred and George are nice," Harry protested.  
  
"To some people," Hermione pointed out. "But just buying something for somebody seems out of character."  
  
"Erm, maybe," Harry apparently didn't want to talk about the twins. "Ron said he'd love to borrow my quote 'precious baby broomie' close quote."  
  
Hermione laughed. "Ron called your Firebolt a 'precious baby broomie'? You're kidding!"  
  
"No, those were his exact words," Harry said. "Oh, dear…"  
  
"What? Has something happened to the Weasleys?"  
  
"It seems that Ron and the twins have made a rather shocking discovery about their sister," Harry snickered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"According to Ginny, they've uncovered her deepest, darkest, most shocking, and most scandalous secret," Harry said, obviously relishing the next part.  
  
"Go on," Hermione huffed impatiently.  
  
"She's a girl."  
  
Hermione howled with laughter. "Oh, dear, indeed," she said. "This is going to be quite useful in getting Ron to shut up, won't it?"  
  
"I'm picturing my Divination homework now… 'You will discover a horrifying secret about a member of your family,'" chortled Harry.  
  
"I was thinking of this as the perfect response for Ron's comments about Viktor," Hermione said. "By the way, Ron, did you notice that Ginny's a _girl_?"  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
"And how about you?" Hermione continued.  
  
Harry sighed. "Yes, Hermione, I noticed that Ginny was a girl quite some time ago," he said. "The first time was on September 1st, 1991. About two hours before I noticed that _you_ were a girl, in fact."  
  
"You know she likes you," Hermione added.  
  
Harry sighed again. "Hermione, please, don't nag. I like Ginny, but I'm _not _interested in her _that_ way. You can't tell me that you haven't noticed that."  
  
"Well, you did send her that cat," Hermione said.  
  
"Yes, I said I liked her. Besides, she's good with animals."  
  
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Well, I've seen her helping other students with their animals," Harry answered. "And she's helped some of the Muggle-born students deal with owl post, too."  
  
"I see," Hermione sounded smug even to herself. "So you've notice her, have you? Plus you offered to help her with her summer essays, too."  
  
Harry made a huffing noise. "Hermione, I offered to help her with her homework if she needed any while you were out of the country. You can't tell me that offering to help with homework is a form of flirting, not when you offer help to everyone at Hogwarts. I am not oblivious. She is intelligent, kind and chock full of other virtues. Nor has it escaped my attention that she is good looking. However, I.Am.Not.Interested."  
  
"Me thinkest the boy protests overmuch."   
  
Harry just sighed. "You know I'm interested in Cho."  
  
"But how can you be? I mean, she's pretty and all, but you really don't know much about her, do you?"  
  
"I know she's intelligent enough to be in Ravenclaw and good enough at my favorite sport to be on the house team."  
  
"That's not much, is it?"  
  
"She was also fair-minded enough to not wear one of Malfoy's 'Potter Stinks' badges," Harry added. "No offense, Hermione, but please drop the subject. I don't want to insult Ginny by repeating that I'm not interested in her. She's a wonderful person, okay? I just want the right to make up my _own_ mind about who I'm interested in, okay?"  
  
Hermione made a face. "I understand," she said. "I just think you two have a lot in common."  
  
"Maybe," Harry said. "So, what's going on with you and Viktor?"  
  
"We're friends," Hermione said firmly. "That's all."  
  
"Even though you're the thing he'd miss most?" Harry asked blandly.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Okay, you win. I'll drop the Ginny issue if you'll stop with the Viktor comments."  
  
"Deal," Harry said with relief. "Wait, does not talking about Viktor mean I can't ask about your trip?"  
  
"No, you can talk about the trip and Viktor. Just don't ask about our relationship… not that there is any romantic going on. You know I'm not interested in him romantically. I just don't want to talk about it."  
  
"OK," Harry said. "How about your relationship with Ron, then? Are you interested in him romantically?"  
  
"Harry, do you know how to curse a wand so it blows up in its owner face?"   
  
"Erm, no."  
  
"I do."  
  
Harry snorted. "What's wrong with being interested in Ron?"  
  
"Nothing, it's just… weird. I mean, we've been friends for so long," Hermione hesitated. Harry was making muffled choking noises. "What's so funny?" she demanded.  
  
"S…sorry," Harry managed. "It's just that we've gone from 'You can't date her, you don't know her well enough.' to 'I can't date him, I know him too well.' Is there a perfect balance of known and unknown that you have to have before you can date a person?"  
  
Hermione was pleased to hear Harry sounding so cheerful, really she was. That's why she decided against killing him. "Harry, change the subject, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Harry said amiably. "So, how're the plans for the trip?"  
  
"Erm, fine," Hermione said.  
  
"Uh-oh, what went wrong?" Harry asked.  
  
"Ah, what makes you think something's gone wrong?" Hermione asked, voice going up a trifle.  
  
"My awesome talent for Divination," Harry said. "Besides, you're a very poor liar, Hermione. It's a good thing nobody's ever accused you of anything you actually done, you'd be toast."  
  
Hermione snorted. "Who would accuse good-two shoes me when there's bratty, rule-breaking Harry Potter to blame?" Hermione paused, thinking that came out wrong, but Harry just laughed.   
  
"Especially as far as Snape is concerned," he said. "He'd blame me for the last goblin rebellion if he could."  
  
"I'd like to see what he's like when there's nobody but Slytherins around," Hermione said thoughtfully.   
  
"I'll pass on that experience," Harry said. "Malfoy alone was bad enough, but you're getting of the subject."  
  
"Speaking of subjects, how's your homework coming?" Hermione said. "Have you figured out where Blodwen got her name? I know that Hedwig was the patron saint of orphans, and there was another Hedwig mentioned in our History of Magic textbook. She was the first witch to become Minister of Magic. She's also one of Dumbledore's ancestors."  
  
"I'm finished with everything but Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration," Harry said. "I read the story about how Blodwen got turned into an owl and I think she got a raw deal. I also notice that you're trying to avoid telling me what the problem is."  
  
"I'm impressed at your work ethic," Hermione said. "And I'm surprised; I'd have thought you'd be more sympathetic to Blodwen's husband. You're more mature than some boys I know. Not to mention you're very perceptive. That's just my way of saying I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to worry you."  
  
"I reserve the right to worry about my friends," Harry returned. "So, tell me what your problem is and I'll tell you about my brand new, never before seen … wait, let me think of the word… neurosis. Yes, I think neurosis is the word."  
  
Hermione's eyebrows went up. "You're winding me up."  
  
"Possibly," Harry admitted. "I only _think_ I'm using the right word."  
  
"A neurosis is a hang-up, fixation or obsession," Hermione said.  
  
"I am speechless with awe," Harry said. "You're a walking dictionary, you are."  
  
"You sound like Ron," Hermione said. "And you're talking too much to be speechless."  
  
"It was just a figure of _speech_," Harry said. "Okay, you go first."  
  
"Dad can't come to Bulgaria," Hermione said.  
  
"Oh." Harry said. "So it's just you and your Mum, then?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure it's safe enough with just the two of us," Hermione said. "So, don't worry about us."  
  
"Too late," Harry said. "I know you're as capable as any wizard your age and many who are older, but having a man with you might deter some attackers."  
  
"Okay, I see what you mean, but it's not like we're going to the bad side of town. We're going through well established travel routes. We're taking the Knight Bus to the International Portkey Terminal, and then we'll be transported to Viktor's home town, where Viktor and his parents will meet us. It should be safe enough."  
  
"'_Should be_'," Harry said. "Somehow that phrase is not at all reassuring."   
  
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm inviting Ron to come with us. He should be formidable looking enough to deter the casual mugger."  
  
"Well, okay, that makes me feel somewhat better," Harry said.  
  
"Dumbledore will be coming by tomorrow to talk about protecting my parents while I'm at school," Hermione said. "I'll talk to him about our trip, too."  
  
"That's even better," Harry said.  
  
"Now, on to your latest obsession," Hermione said. "Have you heard from Snuffles lately?"   
  
Harry sighed. "That's an old obsession, anyway," he said unhappily. "I've had one owl from him, telling me not to owl him because Hedwig's too conspicuous."  
  
"You can borrow Blodwen," Hermione said.  
  
"Thanks," Harry said. "If I can ever get permission from him, I'll do that."  
  
"Okay, Harry, I've told you my deep dark secret, now it's your turn to tell me yours," Hermione said with mock grimness.  
  
"Erm," now it was Harry's turn to try to change the subject. "When did you start wearing perfume?" he asked.  
  
"I…" Hermione was about to tell Harry that she didn't wear perfume when she remembered her aromatherapy experiment. "It's actually aromatherapy," she said. Maybe she should just tell him the truth. "I've heard that certain smells can calm a person down, and I've been feeling so edgy lately that I thought it was worth a try." Okay, part of the truth, anyway.  
  
"Sounds like a good plan," Harry said. "So, did you spill that stuff on purpose or were you trying to experiment on me?"  
  
Damn, the boy was getting too perceptive again.  
  
"Sorry, Potter, only one revelation per phone call. Now, stop changing the subject and tell me about your 'neurosis.'"  
  
"I found a trunk in the attic that belonged to my Mum," Harry said.  
  
"Harry, that's wonderful! What's in it?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I haven't opened it yet. I mean, I've looked in it, but I haven't unwrapped anything yet."  
  
"Why on Earth not? Is there some sort of warding spell keeping you out?"  
  
"More like cowardice," Harry said. "I'm not sure what it is, I just." He sighed with exasperation. "I want something of my Mum's, something important, like Dad's cloak, but I doubt there'll be anything really important in the chest. And I guess I'm afraid to look and, well, find out that it's just trash." There was a long pause. "I guess that sounds stupid, doesn't it?"  
  
"No," Hermione said. "Not really. Let me think a minute."   
  
There was silence on both ends, broken only by Pigwidgeon's insane twittering and Errol's wheezing.  
  
"I understand what you mean about wanting something important," Hermione said at last. "I think you need to look at it the way an archeologist would."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, an archeologist goes digging for information, not treasure. It doesn't matter to him if he finds a crown or a chamber pot, both give him valuable data. In fact, the chamber pot might give him _more_ valuable data than a crown, because it would tell him more about the person's daily life. Your trunk might not have a valuable magical artifact, but it probably contains data about your parents' daily lives. Even if it's just a bunch of old bills or magazines, at least you'd know what they spent their money on and what they liked to read about."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. He was silent for several minutes. "I guess that makes sense."  
  
"Besides, you can't rule out the idea of a warding spell, either," Hermione continued. "Your Mum wouldn't want to put something noticeable on it. That would go against the laws about performing magic in front of Muggles. On the other hand, a little 'I don't want to open this trunk' spell would keep your Aunt and Uncle from poking through the trunk and helping themselves to whatever is in there."  
  
"Oh," Harry said again. "I hadn't thought of that."  
  
"Not that I'm saying they would rob you blind, or anything," Hermione said, just a trifle tartly.   
  
"No, of course not," Harry said. "I'd never suspect them of putting money over family. Just like I would never suspect Draco Malfoy of judging people based on how much money their family has."  
  
"'For the love of money is the root of all evil,'" Hermione quoted.  
  
"Well, that certainly explains where Malfoy came from, his mother couldn't possibly have married his father out of love," Harry said sourly.  
  
"Which Malfoy? Draco's father or his grandfather?" Hermione said.  
  
"Take your choice," Harry said.  
  
"Let's not, I've got enough problems," Hermione sighed.  
  
"You mean, you don't want to have a nice Malfoy rug as a doormat? It's about all he's good for, anyway."  
  
"No, thanks," Hermione said.  
  
"Well, I'd better get going," Harry said. "I've got to get this place cleaned up and the owls hidden before the Dursleys get home. You will owl me as soon as you get to Bulgaria, won't you?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"Of course," Hermione said. "Erm, anything else?" Now that she had Harry's reassuring presence, she was reluctant to let him go. "Do you need any help with your homework?"  
  
"No, I'm almost finished," Harry said. "I told myself I couldn't look at the trunk until I'd finished my homework, and I've been working almost as fast as you do. I did notice something interesting, though."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Invisibility cloaks are almost impossible to detect at a distance."  
  
"What's so amazing about that? They're supposed to be difficult to detect," Hermione said.  
  
"Mafalda Hopkirk wouldn't know if I used my cloak or not," Harry explained.  
  
"You're not planning to use your father's cloak!" Hermione said, scandalized.  
  
"Only if I really need to avoid the Dursleys," Harry said. "And did you notice the Charms assignment deals with old fashioned, almost undetectable wards?"  
  
"Yes, I did notice that," Hermione said. "I was wondering if that was Dumbledore's way of letting us know we could protect ourselves without getting expelled."  
  
"The most interesting one I read about was the one that smells like cabbages," Harry said. "You may remember I told you my baby-sitter's house always smelled of cabbage."  
  
"Yes, I remember you saying something about that," Hermione said thoughtfully. "You think she may be a witch?"  
  
"Dumbledore told Snuffles to gather the 'old gang', including Arabella Figg. My baby-sitter is Mrs. Figg. My faith in coincidences only goes so far."  
  
"Well, now that _is_ interesting. I wonder if Dumbledore planned on you figuring this out," Hermione said.  
  
"Who knows with him?" Harry said. " Oh, there's one thing, what reference book did you use for your Transfiguration essay about the Social Implications of Animagi?"  
  
"The what?"  
  
"The Transfiguration practice essay for our OWLs!" Harry said. "What? Did you finish that so long ago that you've forgotten which reference books you used?"  
  
"Erm, I, oh, dear, I didn't do that one!"  
  
"Hermione! When are you leaving for your trip?"  
  
"In about four days, oh, dear, how am I going to finish it? I can't believe I forgot!"  
  
"Well, you might wind up doing it on the Hogwarts Express," Harry said.  
  
"I can't do a proper bibliography on the train!" Hermione wailed.  
  
"Well, you should have thought of that before you forgot your essay," Harry said sternly. "Look, I'll do mine and owl you my notes, that should help you get started."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Harry," Hermione said, flustered. "This is rather a switch. I can let you have my notes on the transfiguring footstools into sheep… Wait a minute! Our practice essay wasn't about Animagi! It was about sheep and footstools!"  
  
"Oh, my mistake," Harry said blandly.  
  
"Harry Potter! You prat! You almost gave me a heart attack you…" she began to reel off a stream of words she'd picked up from the Weasleys.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry said from a considerable distance from the telephone headset.   
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"Good night." Then the line went dead.  
  
"That's _it_!" shrieked Hermione. "All boys ARE prats! Even the Boy-Who-Lived! Especially The-Boy-Who-Lived!"  
  
Her parents came rushing in.   
  
"Hermione? What's all this about?" Rupert asked.  
  
"Mum, Dad, I've decided to take up an alternate lifestyle," Hermione announced.  
  
Emma put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Hermione, dear, you know we'll support you in whatever decision you make, but I do want to warn you about something."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"When it comes to matters of the heart, women are _just_ as annoying as men."  
  
"Get me to a nunnery," Hermione muttered.  
  
  
Midnight in the Garden of Good (Potter) and Evil (Dursley):  
He didn't actually _lie_ to Hermione, Harry told himself. It's just that he hadn't thought of this problem. There was no way to owl the Firebolt from his room. He couldn't tie it to Hedwig's leg properly so she could carry it and fly out the window. So, he had to take her outside. Which meant using the Invisibility Cloak. He didn't dare risk the neighbors seeing him, much less the Dursleys. Owls carrying brooms weren't exactly common in Little Whingding.   
  
"It's not too heavy for you, is it?" Harry asked anxiously, ignoring the fact that the broom weighed less than Pixie the cat did.  
  
Hedwig gave him an exasperated look.  
  
"You'll be careful, right?" Harry asked as he checked the balance of the broom for the third or fourth time in as many minutes.  
  
Owls can't roll their eyes, but Hedwig managed to convey her disgust, anyway. She was perched on the handle, fairly close to the twigs so the weight would be evenly distributed.  
  
"You sure you don't want to wait for Blodwen to come help?" Harry fussed over the fastenings. He was beginning to regret having offered to send his Firebolt to Ron.  
  
The snowy owl was glaring.  
  
"Erm, fine, then, if you're sure," Harry said nervously. "Okay, then, anytime you're ready."  
  
Hedwig gave him such a stern look that Harry was sure she was channeling McGonagall.  
  
"No, I'm not going to change my mind," Harry snapped. "Just go, will you?"  
  
Hedwig started upward, moving rather slowly. Harry winced, wondering what the average Muggle would think if they spotted her. She was still laboring to gain attitude when Harry remembered that he wasn't supposed to send the Firebolt until _after _Ron had finished all his homework.  
  
Briefly, Harry debated calling Hedwig back, but the thought of her scathing reaction made him hesitate until she was out of earshot. If Ron hadn't finished his essays, Mrs. Weasley was _not _going to be happy.   
  
"I hope that there were laws against sending Howlers to Muggle homes," he muttered.  
  
"As it happens, there are," a voice said from behind him.  
  
Then a strong hand clamped over Harry's mouth and a long arm pinned his arms to his sides. 

  
  
### ###  
  
Author's Notes:  
The picture of Hermione with her fluffy dress is actually me. I look quite happy, though. Unlike Hermione, I love riding horses and I'd love riding broomsticks. By the way, I'm going on vacation, and I won't be near a computer until Tuesday. (On the bright side, I'll have a whole week off to work out ways to torment, er, entertain you!)  
  
Christy: Thanks! Glad you like my take on Petunia.  
  
Ozma: You're welcome! Hope you had a nice three day weekend! ** I figured that it would be 'relatively' easy for the twins to find robes that would look good on Ron and Ginny. All they had to do was find robes that looked good on them. (Madam Gretchen helped, of course.) ** Thanks, I had fun with the prank calls. (I know I'm on the right track when I can make myself laugh.) ((Sorry about the tea.)) ** Thanks for the compliments on the voices. (Harry sounds suspiciously like Daniel Radcliffe for some unknown reason.) ((Emma Granger's name is now doubly appropriate, as she now 'sounds' like Emma Thompson. I saw Treasure Planet again and I really like how Thompson did Capt. Amelia.)) ** Fussball? Okay, I want to hear more about that, never heard of it before.  
  
Andrea13: I'm trying to get that dang trunk open, honest! ** Thanks for the kind words on my interpretation of the Weasleys. I actually had several versions of Fred's comments, but 'You're a woman' didn't seem funny enough and 'You've got boobs!' was maybe a little too much. ** Yep, the Grangers are a sneak preview into Ron and Hermione's future, as far as I'm concerned. And don't think Hermione won't trot out the 'triumph of hormones over intellect' comment when she deems it appropriate.   
  
Flierdeke: Thank you! I try to keep the characters close to canon without simply repeating what Rowling has said.  
  
wHIte-cHOcoLaTE: Yeah, this chapter didn't really go anywhere, but I had to get some of this out of the way or I'd never get over the dang writer's block. Glad it amused you anyway. ** No, neither Dr. Granger nor I watch MTV. This line came from beer commercials.  
  
Katrina: Glad I was able to make you laugh! I've been wanting to see more of the Grangers, so I made them into people that I'd like to meet. I hope Rowling does something with them.  
  
Chary: Yeah, I know that sometimes it's easier to just sit back and read instead of working out a story problem. I'm afraid that I did quite a bit of that during my dry spell. (Plus I have this Aladdin story that I'm woefully behind on. My collaborator will stop speaking to me if I don't finish at least one chapter!) ** Sorry, one of my clues was too obscure. I meant, think about when the trunk was sent over to the Dursleys (Lily said she'd pick it up in November) and what sort of things people do then. ** Harry's voice is based (no surprise) on Daniel Radcliffe's. When he was on Oprah, Daniel said that his voice had just changed one day. He didn't have to suffer through having it continually change pitch on him. I thought I'd do that much for Harry, since he has so much other stuff to suffer through. (I wonder what, if anything, Rowling is going to do with his voice change.) ** Yes, Sirius will be very pleased that a CERTAIN ITEM showed up. Lily tried to hide it from him and James and did a better job than she expected.   
  
Shyanne: Thank you for the compliments! I don't think Ginny could possibly be weak. She survived being possessed by Voldemort for almost a year. Quirrell didn't do nearly as well. She may be shy and hesitant, but she has principles, too. She went to the Yule Ball with Neville when she had the perfect chance to go with Harry. ** I don't think Ron is totally clueless. He may be in denial, but I think he'll catch on pretty quick. ** Thanks for offering to help me get past my writer's block!   
  
MoNmOn: Thanks! I amused myself with the prank calls. Yep, Harry wished for somebody to talk to and Hermione came through for him.   
  
SailorChibi: Thanks! It means a lot to me that people like my story! I'm trying to keep the characters recognizable and believable. Glad it's working. Rupert Granger is a little like my Dad, too. (Though my Dad never teased me this much.)  
  
DUK: Thanks for reviewing! I think Harry and Ginny make a cute couple (as you can tell). Right now, Harry's not to sure about this, but in time I think that Rowling will make him change his mind. I'm doing a little anticipating how this will come about. I want to make the change realistic, but not too lengthy. (I only have until June 20th to finish!)  
  
Female Fred: Thanks for the review! ** Ron and George would like to point out that _they _never expressed astonishment at Ginny's gender. They were just surprised how adult she looked. It's all Fred's fault that they're going to be teased mercilessly for the rest of this story line. ** Fred would like to point out that he noticed that Angelina was a girl a long time ago. It's just that it should be illegal for one's little sister to develop curves.  
  
Rhiain: Thanks! I intend to make you laugh some more!  
  
Alla: That's sweet of you to be concerned! Thanks! ** I'm hoping to finish the next chapter spit-spot. ** I'm glad the prank calls were a hit. I thought them up when I was getting some exercise to clear my head and thought that maybe I'd inhaled too much carbon monoxide. ** Thanks for the compliment on the Weasley boys reaction to Ginny's robes. Just wait until Harry gets an eyeful! ("New robes -- free. New dancing slippers – 12 sickles. New Hairstyle – 5 sickles. Turning The-Boy-Who-Lived into a puddle of hormonal adoration… priceless.")  
  
Three Sickles Short: Thanks for the review! I've been intending to read your stories, but I didn't want to be too influenced. I have looked at them, though, and I loved Harry's robes though, the red and gold sounds spectacular! Thanks for the compliments on Ginny's robes! I was going to give her gold robes, but I thought they might be a bit too much. The silvery robes sound good for her, too. (I got the idea for her robes from the desktop that I use at work.) ** Thanks for the compliments on Hermione's parents. I really want to like them, I hope Rowling does something with them. ** This chapter didn't quite work out the way I intended, but I didn't want to stall for another month.   



	10. Comforting Presents

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

  
Chapter Ten: Comforting Presents

  
Harry squirmed and lashed out but to no avail.   
  
"Hold still, Pup," instructed the voice.  
  
"Eer-eee-urf!" grunted Harry. His initial fright was fading to something faintly resembled annoyance when he recognized the voice.  
  
"You realize that if you yell, I'll have to make a run for it," the friendly voice continued. Then Harry was released.  
  
"Sir-ee-_us_!" he hissed. "I don't play on _that team_!" He managed to wiggle around and get a good look at his godfather. He was too relieved to see Sirius to really get annoyed, but he couldn't resist getting a jab in.  
  
Sirius Black was still too thin, but his long, black hair was clean and his grip was strong. (Harry could testify to that.) Sirius frowned a minute, then picked up on Harry's meaning. "You little brat!" he hissed with a mock scowl. "You're as bad as your father." Then he gave Harry a wicked grin.  
  
Harry backed away, but it was too late. Sirius shifted into canine form and attacked.  
  
Harry's impulse was to yell and lash out. However, he didn't want to attract any attention, so he was reduced to trying to fend off the Padfoot's slobbering tongue as quietly as he could. He grabbed the dog's muzzle and pushed. *Gasp* "Stop!" *Sputter* "You! Oversized!" *Eurgh* "Slobbering!" *Gack* "Drooling! Mons!Tros!It!Eee!"   
  
Sirius popped into human form. "_Me_ drool? This from the _Incredible_ _Drool King_?" he asked mockingly, but in a low voice. "You have _no_ room to talk, Potter. Not after all those times you drooled on me or wiped your runny nose in my hair and that's not even getting into the nappy changing scandal."  
  
Harry felt his face heat up. "Yes, let's not air all the dirty laundry," he muttered. He wiped futilely at his wet face. He took off his glasses and glared at them, as if he could dry them that way. Between the dew on the grass and dog slobber, his shirt was too wet to dry anything.  
  
Sirius chuckled. "Sorry," he said, although his tone wasn't at all sorry. He handed Harry a handkerchief. "James hated getting knocked down and slobbered on, too." He briefly debated telling Harry what Lily's reaction had been, but decided against it. The boy was Marauder enough to actually try it. Unlike Lily, however, Harry might not have enough skill (yet) to undo it. One never really appreciates the tongue's role in eating until it's been removed from one's mouth.  
  
"Nice to know my father and I have something in common besides the hair and glasses," Harry said. He tried to polish his glasses, but only smeared them.  
  
"Your father never wore such ugly glasses," Sirius said.  
  
"Thank you so much," Harry attempted to scowl, but his face kept twisting into a grin.  
  
Sirius ruffled his hair. "You're not responsible for your lack of fashion education. The Dursleys should have seen to that," he said affectionately.   
  
"Yeah, right," Harry said, handing back the useless handkerchief.  
  
"So, where is that Firebolt – that incredibly expensive, state-of-the-art Firebolt that some doting, munificent godfather bought you – going?"  
  
"Your affectionate and appreciative godson, having decided it was a crime to leave said incredibly expensive, state-of-the-art Firebolt in the closet all summer, is lending it to Ron Weasley," Harry said. He took a minute to catch his breath before it occurred to him that Sirius might not like that. "You don't mind, do you?" he added anxiously.  
  
"Of course not." Sirius said. He ruffled Harry's hair again. "It'll help you later. Girls go for men with a reputation for being generous. Speaking of girls, you need a girlfriend to help you make fashion decisions since your Aunt has been so derelict in her duties. Prong's wardrobe was a disgrace until your Mum took him in hand. Got somebody in mind?"  
  
Harry blinked a few times as he tried to keep up with Sirius' lightning change of subject. After a few minutes trying to understand Sirius' train of thought, he gave up. "Why are you here?" Harry asked, pushing his godfather's hand out of his hair. "You could get caught." That sounded rude, so he added: "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but I…"  
  
Sirius grinned at the abrupt change of subject and cut Harry off with another hug. "We need somewhere safe to talk," was all he said, acknowledging that Harry had a point. "I'm going to introduce you to your secret guardian. We can talk at her place."  
  
"You mean Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked when he could breathe again.  
  
Sirius was pleased at Harry's perspicacity, but didn't get a chance to say so.  
  
"I wondered if you'd ever twig to the truth," a new voice said dryly.   
  
Harry jumped and whirled around to face the speaker. When he saw the elderly woman there, he leaned back against Sirius and tried to catch his breath. He wondered how old Mrs. Figg had managed to sneak up on them without Sirius noticing.  
  
Sirius snickered and rubbed Harry's shoulders. "Calm down, Pup. She's with us."  
  
Harry realized that his godfather had known that Mrs. Figg was there all along. He made a mental vow to pay Sirius back for that fright someday. "Mrs. Figg?" he finally managed to gasp.  
  
"Good, you remember me," Mrs. Figg said with some asperity. "Now, we need to get you to my place without anybody noticing."  
  
"That'll be easy," Harry said. He picked up his father's invisibility cloak. "According to my research, the Department for Restriction of Underage Magic can't detect this. I used it to smuggle Hedwig and the Firebolt out of the Dursleys'."  
  
"Good, you actually picked up on Dumbledore's subtle suggestion. Wasn't sure if you would." Mrs. Figg gave Sirius a sideways look. "Well?" Suddenly, there was a large black dog standing there. "Heel," she said gruffly.  
  
Padfoot fell in with Mrs. Figg. Harry walked alongside the Grim with his hand resting on the dog's ruff. After they got inside, Mrs. Figg pulled her wand out from somewhere and waved it at the windows. "There, if anybody looks inside the house, all they'll see are two tom cats. Mind you don't scratch the furniture." She paused. "Okay, Potter, come on out."  
  
Harry shed the Invisibility Cloak and hung it carefully on the floor.   
  
"Neat as ever, eh, boy?" Mrs. Figg said ironically. She waved her wand in Harry's direction. His shirt dried, his glasses cleared up and the cloak draped itself over the coat rack. The grass stains he got when Padfoot had knocked him over became permanently embedded into his oversized, generally colorless t-shirt. "Teenagers!" she snorted. "Why don't you wear decent clothing?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Mrs. Figg interrupted him.  
  
"Shut it, you. I'll leave you along in a moment," Mrs. Figg said. "I just want to know when you figured out the truth."  
  
"Last week," Harry admitted. "I didn't really think about it when Dumbledore said to gather up the old gang, including Arabella Figg. However, my Charms assignment is about old fashioned and inconspicuous wards, and I ran across Cole's Ward in my reading."  
  
Mrs. Figg nodded. "Cole's ward is nice and subtle, unfortunately, it reeks of cabbage." She looked him up and down. "I'm glad you're turning out to be such a skilled young wizard, I was beginning to think you were a Squib, and a stupid one at that. You didn't pass any of my tests."  
  
"Oh," Harry said blankly.  
  
"Do you know how I tested you?" Mrs. Figg interrogated.   
  
Harry cocked his head. "I expect it had something to do with all those cat pictures," he said guardedly.  
  
"Very good," Mrs. Figg said approvingly. "You're not _quite_ as dim as I thought. There are several ways of getting a young wizard to reveal his powers. Fear, anger and pain are among the most common triggers. Naturally, I wasn't about to do anything to hurt or scare you; and angering a Wizarding child can have, shall we say, _painful_ consequences. So I chose the fourth most common trigger."  
  
"Boredom?" Harry hazarded.  
  
"Full marks," Mrs. Figg said. "The cat pictures do some rather interesting things when a Wizard wants them to. I think I may learn to like you… in another twenty years or so."  
  
"I'll mark my calendar," Harry sighed.  
  
"What happened to the Kneazle crossbreed that I gave to your aunt? It was supposed to be looking out for you and reporting to me every night. Tell me she hasn't been skivving off."  
  
"My uncle and cousin are allergic, so I sent her to a friend of mine, Ginny Weasley."  
  
"Arthur's youngest," Mrs. Figg said with a sniff. "I didn't intend to give _her_ a guardian."  
  
"Sorry," Harry said in a small voice.  
  
"But I guess Little Miss can protect you at Hogwarts, at least," Mrs. Figg said thoughtfully. "Besides, the Weasley girl does need looking out for. She has a talent for trouble almost as bad as you and your godfather."  
  
Harry scowled at the way she referred to Ginny, but before he could object, Mrs. Figg was talking again. "Well, I'll leave you two alone now. I've been out of circulation for a while; it's time to renew some acquaintances." She went to the fireplace, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "By the way, boy, lending your broom to the Weasley boy was a gallant gesture. Evans would have been pleased." She tossed the powder into the fire and headed off to the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Harry gaped after her. "She's nutters," he muttered.   
  
"Don't be rude, Harry, she's been through a lot on your account," Sirius said. He grasped Harry's shoulder and gave him a little shake.  
  
Harry frowned. "But she can't make up her mind whether to be nice or mean!"  
  
Sirius ruffled his hair. "Don't take her personally; she talks to everybody like that. You should hear her talk to Dumbledore."  
  
Harry gave Sirius a sideways look. "I'd rather hear her talk to Snape."  
  
Sirius grinned. "That's an event worth selling tickets to."  
  
There was an awkward pause as Harry tried to think of some way to show his appreciation for his godfather's presence, but suddenly his mind had gone blank and his insides were beginning to knot up. His earlier conversation with Hermione had made him feel better and now seeing Sirius made him happy. This, ironically, sent his mood into a nosedive. It was as if the only way to feel something good was to let in the painful emotions that he'd been holding at arm's length for so long. "Erm, how have you been?" he asked finally. He wanted to say that he'd been worried about Sirius, but he didn't want to sound clingy or whining. He also wasn't sure his voice would stay steady.  
  
"Busy," Sirius said. "I've been staying with Moony, as you probably remember. He's a fair cook, so I've put back some weight."  
  
Harry eyed him doubtfully. "Not much," he said.  
  
"You've _lost_ weight," Sirius observed unhappily.  
  
Harry shrugged and looked away.   
  
"How have you been?" Sirius persisted.  
  
Harry let his breath out in a long sigh and looked around for a place to sit.  
  
"You're permitted to sit on the furniture," Sirius said. "She even allows Snuffles up on the couch."  
  
"Oh," Harry flopped onto the couch.   
  
"It's not your fault," Sirius said, also sitting down. "Cedric's death is _Voldemort's_ fault, not yours."  
  
"Yeah," Harry said morosely.  
  
"You want to talk?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, not about that." He paused. "Does it _ever_ get better?" he added plaintively, ignoring the fact that he'd just said he didn't want to talk about it.  
  
Sirius put his arm around him and Harry rested his head on his godfather's shoulder. Part of him was mortified to be so needy, but he was tired of being stoic.  
  
It nearly broke Sirius' heart to hear his godson talk like that. He remembered back to Lily's pregnancy, he had a list of conversations that he planned to have with the baby. Dealing with the murder of a friend hadn't been on it. He wished he had something reassuring to say. Unfortunately, he was stuck with the truth.  
  
"No," he said. He wrapped his arm firmly around his godson and leaned his cheek against Harry's silky hair. "Not really. The mind protects itself by covering up the pain with layers of other emotions, even other pain. And life's day to day tasks and tribulations sort of redirect your attention. In time, it becomes bearable, or so I've been told, but I'm afraid it doesn't get _better_."  
  
Harry was shivering.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sirius said. "Harry, I can never make it up to you. I should have been there… your parents should be here. It's my fault…" He stopped when he felt Harry shake his head.   
  
"Sirius, stop, it's not your fault," Harry managed. He was gasping a little as he fought back the urge to cry.  
  
Sirius ran his hand over Harry's head. "It's not your fault, either."  
  
Harry lost the battle to keep his composure. Sirius pulled him close, murmured soothingly and rubbed the back of Harry's neck until the boy stopped shaking. He didn't try to hold on, however, when Harry suddenly pushed away.   
  
"S… sorry," Harry muttered, pushing his glasses up and wiping angrily at his eyes. "You didn't come here to listen to me blub."_  
_  
"Harry, if you need to cry, then that's why I'm here," Sirius said gently. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. "You're parents trusted me to look out for you. I haven't done a good job so far, the very least I can do is let you get some of this crap off your chest."   
  
"Excuse me," Harry fled. He hoped Mrs. Figg didn't mind his using her bathroom, but he needed a few minutes to himself. When he came back, he gave Sirius a wary look to see if the older man was showing signs of amusement or, worse, pity; but he couldn't decipher Sirius' expression. It reminded him of the way that Mrs. Weasley had looked at Ginny after the Chamber of Secrets.   
  
He went back to the couch, but sat a little farther away from Sirius. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.   
  
"Handkerchief?" Sirius said, offering his filthy handkerchief again.  
  
Harry just shook his head without opening his eyes. "Sorry, I don't know why I went off like that, I was feeling fine earlier this evening," he said.  
  
"Harry, you have _no reason_ to feel ashamed for crying. You've been through Hell. It's natural for you to have mood swings. You need to let go of some of the pain." '_Look who's talking_,' a voice in the back of Sirius' mind sneered. Sirius ignored it. This wasn't about him. "Please understand, you have no control over what other people do. You and Cedric did _exactly_ what you were supposed to do. It is _not your fault_ that Voldemort was able to take advantage of the situation."  
  
"I know, I guess," Harry sighed. "I just wish I could _believe_. It feels so… unfair that I can go on living and maybe be happy someday when Cedric can't."  
  
"I understand," Sirius said. He thought about James and Lily. "Muggles have a term for this… I wish I could remember what it is."  
  
"I bet Hermione would know," Harry said. He was actually starting to feel better. Now if he could only get rid of the persistent stomach ache. He decided not to mention that to Sirius, he'd troubled his godfather enough with his histrionics.  
  
"Because she's a Muggle-born?"  
  
"Because she's a walking encyclopedia," Harry said with an air of pride.  
  
"Like her, do you?" Sirius said slyly in an effort to lighten the atmosphere. He nudged Harry in the ribs the way he used to nudge James when conversation turned to Lily.  
  
"Not that way," Harry said with a touch of irritation. "She's like my sister." He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He sighed and tried to find the right words. "I need her as a _sister_, not a girlfriend," he finally said. The explanation sounded lame to him. "I mean, you might break up with a girlfriend," he added. Then he gave up. Every attempt at an explanation sounded more idiotic than the last one.  
  
Sirius gazed at Harry's profile for a few minutes, trying to get inside the boy's head. "I guess I can see why you'd want a safe, stable relationship with her." He sighed. "Darn, and I _so_ wanted to tease you about girls." He leaned over and tweaked Harry's ear. "So, what about Arthur's daughter? The girl you sent the Kneazle crossbreed to?"  
  
Harry frowned and swatted Sirius' hand away. "Ginny's not my girlfriend," he said. He tried to glare at Sirius, but he suspected he looked more pitiful than threatening. "I don't have a girlfriend." Now he sounded pathetic.  
  
"So, Ginny's just a friend?"  
  
"More like an acquaintance," Harry said. "I don't really know her that well."  
  
"Even though you spend so much time at the Burrow? She's only a year behind you, you know."  
  
"She's a little shy around me," Harry said uncomfortably. He squirmed a little and slumped down on the couch. Suddenly the pattern on the carpet under his feet became very interesting.  
  
"Likes _you_, does she?" Sirius' voice was warm, but Harry didn't look up to see if he was smiling.  
  
Harry just knew his face had turned Weasley red.  
  
"Ah-ha! I _knew_ a handsome lad like you would attract girls!" Sirius said triumphantly. He reached over and pinched Harry's cheek. "Your mum had a lot of competition before she snagged your dad."  
  
"Sirius, I don't need to hear this," Harry muttered. "It's nothing, really." He moved away from Sirius.  
  
"She's a beautiful girl, Harry," Sirius said. "There's nothing wrong with her being attracted to you."  
  
"Yeah, well," Harry pushed himself upright. "It just seems so, well, so _arrogant_ to say 'Yeah, she's crushing on me.'."  
  
"Modest, too," Sirius murmured. "You're mum would like your attitude. One of your dad's few failings was his lack of modesty."  
  
Harry swallowed a few times, but didn't answer.  
  
"There isn't anything wrong with realizing that somebody loves you," Sirius said. "Or even acknowledging it." Harry still didn't answer. "I love you; you do know that, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "I'd be pretty thick not to. I mean, you swam the North Sea and ate rats and…" '_And risked his life and immortal soul_,' Harry added to himself. "It's just that, well, it seems so weird." He went back to staring at the ceiling, so he missed the emotions passing across Sirius' face – pain, followed by sorrow, followed by fury.  
  
Sirius was silent for a few minutes as he fought down the urge to go to the Dursleys and transfigure the adults into Flobberworms. How _dare_ they instill this sense of unworthiness in Harry?   
  
"So, you never told me why you were here," Harry said after a few minutes.   
  
"I wanted to see you again," Sirius said. "I'm going away for a while and this might be the last time I get to talk to you… before you're birthday, I mean," Sirius added hastily at the expression on Harry's face.  
  
"My birthday's not for two weeks."  
  
"Nine days, actually," Sirius said. "Besides, better early than late, right?"   
  
Harry stiffened. "You're going to do something stupid," he accused.  
  
"No," Sirius said. "Not this time. This task is actually going to be rather boring. The trouble is, I'm going to be doing a lot of research and that's going to take a lot of time. I wanted to give you your birthday presents while I had the chance."   
  
He wondered if he should talk to Harry about the mystery of the Weasley twins' sudden wealth, then he decided against it. It would only upset Harry, he thought. Besides, he told himself bitterly, he'd have hexed anybody who had tried to convince him that _Peter_ would sell them out to the Dark Lord.  
  
"Presents?" Harry asked sitting up in surprise. "You shouldn't have bought me anything," he added. "Somebody might spot you in a store. It's not worth the risk."  
  
"Yes, presents, as in more than one gift. As it happens, I didn't actually buy anything," Sirius said. "One of the presents is from Hagrid. He gave it to me to pass on to you. Madam Maxime sent you something nice. Remus sent something, too. Although I warn you in advance, Remus' idea of a proper birthday present has changed quite a bit from his Marauder's days."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"At least this one won't spray you with perfume or eat your socks," Sirius added. "Wait, the sock eating gift was from James. Oh, and there's a package from Mrs. Figg, too."  
  
Harry stared. "You're kidding me."  
  
"No," Sirius said. "Come into the kitchen and I'll show you."  
  
The kitchen was dark, but as soon as Harry walked in, fifteen candles burst into flame and illuminated the cake that they were embedded in. They also illuminated the pile of presents that sat around the table.  
  
Harry's eyes went wide and for a minute he was afraid he was going to burst into tears again. "This is for me?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.  
  
"Yes," Sirius said. He rubbed Harry's back, noting the fact that Harry was shivering again. Flobberworms were too good for the Dursleys. "Say, Harry, what were those creatures you and Ron were complaining about last year? The ones that Hagrid was so enthused about?"  
  
"Huh?" Harry said. He shook himself like he was trying to wake up. "I… oh, yeah, the blast-ended skrewts. Why?"  
  
"Just curious," Sirius said. He wondered how to transfigure a human, no, a Dursley, into a blast-ended skrewt. "Well, go on, open your presents, boy!"  
  
Harry sat down at the table and looked uncertainly from the pile of packages to Sirius.  
  
"Don't expect me to sing," Sirius said. "I used to be good at it, but that was a long time ago."  
  
"Oh, right," Harry said. "Erm, what should I start with?"  
  
"Try the big box from Arabella," Sirius directed.  
  
Harry gave him a blank look.  
  
"Mrs. Figg," Sirius elaborated. He pointed to a large box wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string rather than ribbon.  
  
"Oh," Harry said. He pulled the string off and opened the package. It turned out to be filled with Muggle clothing – two maroon shirts (one with short sleeves and one with long sleeves), blue jeans, a denim jacket, black trainers, a dozen pairs of socks and a dozen sets of underwear. The enclosed note said: "Try wearing some decent clothes for a change." Harry felt his face heating up. He wasn't sure to be more embarrassed that Mrs. Figg knew that he didn't have decent underwear or that she knew what size to get. Didn't he have _any_ privacy?  
  
Sirius laughed. "Really, Harry, does she think your aunt and uncle are so stingy that they won't…" there was something about Harry's expression that made him trail off.   
  
"So, who's next?" Harry said in an attempt to change the subject.  
  
Sirius stared for a few minutes, trying to get his brain around this latest revelation. "Um, Remus' gift, I think," he said. "It's almost as exciting as Mrs. Figg's, but not quite."  
  
Remus' present turned out to be an old, leather-bound copy of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. There was no note in the box, which made Harry frown. He flipped open the book and found two inscriptions. The second was from Remus to him and read: "_Dear Harry, this book has given me considerable reading pleasure over the years and I hope that you will enjoy it as well. Cheers, Remus L_."  
  
The first inscription explained a lot. "_Happy Birthday, Remus. Here's an example of Muggle literature that I think you will enjoy. Love from Lily_."  
  
He showed the inscriptions to Sirius, who remained unimpressed. "Yeah, I suppose it has sentimental value. But it's still a _boring_ present!"  
  
Harry managed a grin. "You sound like Ron," he said.  
  
"Ron's a bright boy," Sirius said. "Nothing wrong with sounding like him."  
  
Harry hefted the book and thought that Hermione would like it. Not that he would give her his mother's book. "I bet this isn't half as boring as the trunk I found," Harry said, half to himself.  
  
"What trunk is that?" Sirius asked.  
  
"I was helping Aunt Petunia clean out the attic and we found a trunk that Mum had left with her while they were moving around," Harry said.  
  
"What's in it?"  
  
"Dunno," Harry said diffidently. "I haven't looked in it yet. Not really."  
  
Sirius looked at him curiously.  
  
"I've been working on homework," Harry confessed shame-facedly.  
  
Sirius sensed there was something else bothering him. "That aunt of yours didn't give you grief over it, did she?" he demanded.  
  
"No," Harry said. "In fact, she said I could keep anything of Mum's that I found."  
  
"Good," Sirius said. He decided against murdering the Dursleys outright. It would probably upset the boy, anyway. Still, he felt the need to do something.   
  
"It's just that I've been, well, scared to look," Harry added. He couldn't bring himself to look at Sirius, either. "I just, well, I want it to be something important, but I'm afraid it's just… nothing."  
  
Sirius walked behind him and massaged his shoulders. "Nothing your mother thought was worth saving can be 'nothing'," he said. "She wasn't the kind to hold on to rubbish."  
  
Harry sighed. "I hope not. I suppose it's too much to hope for something like the Invisibility Cloak. Anyway, Hermione thinks I should approach it like an archeology dig, and that anything in there has to be valuable because it will help me learn more about my parents."  
  
"I _like_ that girl," Sirius said. "Always have. She'll make somebody a good goddaughter-in-law someday."  
  
"Sirius, if your hints got any broader, they wouldn't fit in the room," Harry said. "I'm not interested in her that way. Besides, I'd never dream of poaching on Ron's territory."  
  
Sirius grinned. "Oh, so that's the way the wind blows, eh?"  
  
"Apparently," Harry decided to change the subject. "Speaking of the trunk, Hermione thinks there might be some sort of spell on it that makes me not want to poke around in it."  
  
"That's fairly common with luggage," Sirius said. "Especially when traveling among Muggles. Your Mum was especially good at charms and an Aversion Charm would have been easy enough for her. If you can't break through before school starts, maybe Flitwick can help you with it."  
  
"Maybe," Harry said. "I keep hoping I'll be able to go to the Weasleys. I bet they could help me get through."  
  
"Especially Bill," Sirius said. "That's his area of expertise and I doubt you Mum put anything really nasty on that trunk. Assuming it has anything on it." He waved his hand at the cake. "Have some of this, it's lovely and fresh. Madam Maxime had it especially made for you. I hope you like chocolate."  
  
"I love chocolate," Harry said eagerly. "So it's a chocolate cake?"  
  
"Nothing so ordinary," Sirius said. "Apparently it's chocolate cake layered with chocolate mousse and covered with chocolate ganache."  
  
"Wow," Harry was impressed. He stood up and blew out the candles. It took him several tries, as the candles ran around the top of the cake trying to avoid him. One went so far as to hang off the edge, but Harry eventually got that one, too.  
  
"Pathetic," Sirius said. "Your Mum once used a blow-hard charm that not only allowed her to blow out all the candles in one breath, but she managed to splatter the frosting all over your father and me."  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
"I think Moony might have a picture of it," Sirius added. "Now, for the good part." He waved his wand and a generous slice of cake landed on Harry's plate, to be joined a few minutes later by a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.  
  
The next few minutes were given over to eating. It was the first time all day that Harry had really felt like eating. Chocolate, he decided, was a great appetite stimulant.  
  
"Okay, open Hagrid's next," Sirius said. "I confess, I'm rather curious as to what he got you. He only said that it was useful and '_interestin'_.'"  
  
Harry eyed the package warily. "It didn't try to bite you or anything, did it?" he asked.  
  
"Harry, do you think I'd give my beloved godson something I thought was dangerous?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Sirius laughed. "Well, maybe. No, it didn't try to bite or scratch or move… much."  
  
Harry turned his wary gaze to Sirius' face, but his godfather just smiled blandly.  
  
Harry touched the package and nearly jumped out of his skin when it wiggled. He cursed under his breath.  
  
"Nice vocabulary," Sirius said, fighting back a laugh.  
  
Harry finally managed to glare at Sirius.  
  
"Oh, suck it up and open the package," Sirius laughed.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and ripped open the package. At first, he thought he was looking at a snake. Then he realized that a snake would probably have eyes and a mouth and this was actually a rope. He sighed with relief when he picked it up. The rope wasn't any thicker than his finger and was made of some sort of silvery material. It felt so much like his Invisibility Cloak that he suspected it might be from the same material. He put the rope down and hunted around for a note. He knew Hagrid too well to imagine that this was a commonplace rope.  
  
Besides, ordinary ropes don't wiggle and rub against one's hand.  
  
"_Dear Harry_," the note read. "_This is a snake rope. You whistle the commands and it will do what you tell it to. Hope your feeling better, see you at Hogwarts. Cheers, Hagrid_."  
  
"Wicked," Harry said, reading the list of commands that the rope would obey. "I can use this to climb out of places or tie up people…" his eyes went misty at the possibilities. He shook himself a little and looked around. "Oh, who's this from?" he asked picking up a colorful tube.  
  
Sirius snatched it from his hand. "I don't know, I didn't see that before." He looked at it carefully, wand at the ready. Then he relaxed. "It's from Dumbledore," he reported, handing it back to Harry.  
  
Harry eyed the package uncertainly. "He's never sent me anything before," he said wonderingly. "I mean, not since he gave me Dad's cloak. What could it be?" The wrapping paper was dark blue with golden suns and silver moons on it. It reminded Harry of a Christmas cracker, but he didn't think that Dumbledore would send him one of those.  
  
He should have remembered Dumbledore's sense of humor. When he unwrapped the package, there was a loud BANG and a puff of smoke filled Mrs. Figg's kitchen.  
  
When Sirius and Harry finished coughing and waving the smoke away there was nothing left of the wrapping. There was, however, a piece of parchment sitting on the table that hadn't been there before. A piece of parchment that was very familiar to both men sitting at the table.  
  
"The Marauder's Map!" Harry yelped happily.  
  
"Guess Dumbledore thought you'd need it next year," Sirius said happily. He tapped the map with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."  
  
"_Mr. Wormtail wonders if there is ever a time when Mr. Padfoot is NOT up to no good?_"  
  
"_Mr. Moony would like to point out that there are times when Mr. Padfoot is asleep or unconscious_."  
  
"Gee, thanks, mates," Sirius said.  
  
Harry grinned. "They certainly know you very well, Mr. Padfoot."  
  
"Shut it, Mr. Prongs, Jr."  
  
"_Mr. Padfoot, Mr. Prongs would like to point out that it is nearly one AM and Prongs, Jr. should have been in bed hours ago_."  
  
Sirius snorted. "Even then he was being corrupted by Lily."   
  
Harry ran a finger across the map and smiled sadly. "It's my birthday party, Mr. Prongs," he said.  
  
"_Mr. Prongs would like to wish Prongs, Jr. the happiest of birthday celebrations and begs him to consider going to bed soon_."  
  
"_Mr. Moony sends his best wishes and hopes that Master Prongs, Jr. has had a lovely day_."  
  
"_Mr. Wormtail sends his regards to Prongs, Jr. and he hopes there is plenty of cake and ice cream for everybody_."  
  
"Yes, there's plenty of goodies for everybody," Harry said. He could manage to keep calm by remembering that this was just a thing. His father and his father's betrayer were not really writing to him. Still, it was nice to have his father wish him a happy birthday, even if it _was_ only by proxy.  
  
"Good-night, all," Sirius said. He tapped the map. "Mischief managed."  
  
Harry fingered the now blank parchment sadly.  
  
"You okay?" Sirius said.  
  
"Yeah, I think," Harry said. "It was nice talking to Prongs." Harry hesitated. "Sirius? D'you think that…" he trailed off.  
  
"Go on," Sirius encouraged.  
  
"D'you think my Mum and Dad would have liked me?" Harry looked up, then hurried on. "I mean, I know they would have loved me, being my parents and all, but would they have _liked_ me? I mean, I'm not that good in school and I'm always in trouble…" he trailed off with a sigh.  
  
"Well, if you were classmates with your parents, I think your Dad would have taken to you right away. He picked up friends the way black velvet picks up white cat hairs. Your guts and your skill in Quidditch would have won James over. As for Lily," Sirius had to think about that for a while. "Well, she'd have reacted like Hermione, I expect. She'd be urging you to take your studies more seriously, and to drop Divination in favor of Muggle Studies, because that's what she was always doing with us. But, well, as Mrs. Figg said, your Mum would have approved of you lending your broom to Ron for the summer. She was a good judge of character, I expect that she would have liked you. Face it, you're a rather likable lad."  
  
Harry looked down at the Marauder's Map. He was likable? He tried to get his brain around that, but failed. "Thanks," he said. He stood up and cleared off the table to give himself something to do. He didn't want to blub in front of Sirius again just because he'd been complimented. "No point in leaving a mess for Mrs. Figg," he muttered.  
  
After they finished cleaning up, Sirius grinned. "Enough moping, you have one last present to open. I've been working on this since before your fourth year, and I think it will come in useful."  
  
He handed Harry rectangular box wrapped in sparkly gold paper. Inside was a small, denim bound book with the silhouette of a stag against a crescent moon.   
  
"This looks as thrilling as Remus' gift," Harry said dryly.   
  
Sirius snickered. "I've been recreating our masterpiece. I wish I knew what happened to the original, but I suspect it was destroyed at… well, a long time ago."  
  
Harry figured that the original must have been at Godric's Hollow, but he didn't pursue that train of thought. He flipped open the book and saw… nothing. He shot Sirius a sideways look, then flipped through the pages. "This isn't a diary, is it?"  
  
Sirius shook his head.  
  
"How do I activate this?" Harry asked.  
  
"Ask nicely."  
  
Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me, would you show me what's written in here?" he asked.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Harry tried again. "Excuse me, would you _please_ show me what's written on these pages?"  
  
Still nothing. Sirius grinned.  
  
Harry gave him an assessing look. Then tried a third time. "Excuse me, Mr. or Ms. Nicely, would you please show me what is in this book?"  
  
:_Of course_: The book printed. :_And it's just Nicely, thank you_.:  
  
"You're welcome," Harry said. "Are you another aid to magical mischief makers?"  
  
:_I have that distinction, yes_: Nicely answered.  
  
Sirius applauded.  
  
Harry smirked at him. "You _could_ have been more obvious, but it would have been hard." Then he ducked as Sirius reached over to abuse his hair again.  
  
Then gold letters scrolled across the page, distracting them both.  


__

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
Proudly Present  
The Animagus Survival Guide

  
Harry's eyes went wide. "You're going to teach me to become an Animagus?" he gasped.  
  
"Yes," Sirius said. "Mind you, I haven't consulted with Dumbledore about this. You'll have to keep it strictly to yourself."  
  
Harry frowned at the Guide.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Can I tell Ron and Hermione?"  
  
Sirius made a face. "You think they'd like to try?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "Besides, it would too weird to keep it from them."  
  
"Harry," Sirius started.  
  
Harry looked at him pleadingly.  
  
Sirius sighed. "Okay, but mind you all follow Nicely's instructions to the letter! I can get you started tomorrow, but don't you try the transfiguration until you've seen me a few more times for actual lessons. It was rough going and Transfiguration isn't your strong suit."  
  
"Do you think I can… you'll be here _tomorrow_?" Harry's face lit up like Bonfire Night.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Figg and I will figure out some way of getting you over here. But for now, it's time for you to go home."  
  
"I'm not due back at Hogwarts until September first."  
  
"Back to the Dursleys' I mean. It's past your bedtime," Sirius said sternly.  
  
"Can't we get started now?" Harry pleaded.  
  
"Harry, it's after one o'clock."  
  
"_Please_?" Harry made puppy eyes at his godfather.  
  
Sirius found that while he had a great many abilities, saying no to Harry wasn't one of them.  


###

  
  
Author's Notes:  
Everybody who guessed that Harry's mysterious assailant was Sirius Black may take ten house points.  
  
Yes, I've noticed that I haven't opened the trunk yet. I'm afraid that I've given up on that chapter and will combine it with a later one. (It will be better with Ron and Hermione there to add color commentary.) However, the Animagus Handbook was something that was _supposed_ to be in it. I just decided I had too much stuff in the trunk, and this wasn't something that Lily would have, anyway. So I turned it into a present from Sirius (and Remus) instead. There's more to the gift than Sirius let on. He and Remus have been working on retrieving some of the memories that Azkaban had drained from Sirius. But that's nothing he would want to burden Harry with.  
  
The Muggle term Sirius was trying to remember is 'survivor's guilt.' They'll both learn it eventually. And yes, it will come from Hermione.  
  
Cole's Ward: from cole slaw, of course. Cole being the German word for cabbage.  
  
Taself: Thanks! Glad you find this story funny! Here's more for you!  
  
Ian: Thanks! Why do I have to do cliff-hangers? Erm, because I'm a cruel and unusual person? Hope this chapter makes you feel better.  
  
Shdurrani: Thanks! I intend to keep going!  
  
DaBear: Thanks! Wouldn't want to drive you nuts (just yet). Here's the next chapter!  
  
Andrea13: Thanks for letting me know what your favorite lines are. ** Glad you like my version of the Grangers. ** Your prayer is answered, as you can see.  
  
Shyanne: Thanks! I love the Weasleys, too! ** I'm hoping to get the next couple of chapters out even faster.   
  
SailorChibi: Thank you so much! I'm so glad that the characters come across as being 'real'. I'm trying very hard to make them seem that way. (Right now they've taken up residence in my head, so that helps.) ** You are correct about who's grabbed Harry.  
  
Fiddy: Thanks!  
  
MoNmOn: Sorry, no Weasleys in this chapter, either. They should be showing up next time. ** I thought it was about time for Harry and Hermione to have a fun conversation. Thanks for telling me what lines you like.  
  
Temporary Insanity: Nope, Harry's not in too much trouble just yet. That comes later. ** Loved your comment about Hermione channeling Shakespeare.  
  
Nexus: I'm so flattered that you think my story is good enough to go on your favorites list! Thank you!  
  
Female Fred: Thanks! Can't make Harry too sweet, that wouldn't be him. He's got to play a joke every now and then or the Weasleys will disown him! (At least, the twins would disown him!)  
  
Rhiain: Thanks! As far as cliff-hangers go, I am the Queen of Mean.  
  
Yosti: Thanks! I'm trying to increase my speed! I want to finish this so I can move on to 'A Sirius Situation' before Book Five comes out!  
  
Iniysa: I'm hurrying as fast as I can! Thanks for the review!  
  
Chary: Thanks for the review. Yes, right now Harry is certain that he's not interested in Ginny 'that way.' Of course, things change. ** Yes, as far as Harry is concerned, that Firebolt is as precious as his firstborn. ** What's Bonfire Night? Sounds cool. (I even used it in this chapter without knowing what it might be.) Anyway, you're on the right track as to what's in the trunk. ** I didn't get nearly as much written as I'd hoped to. *sigh* At least, I got something done!  
  
Hannah Abby: Flatterer! I could leave it there because I'm evil! ;-)  
  
A. Lee: Hee! Hee! You flatterer, you! ** Actually, Ron did not say 'You're a GIRL' to Ginny. Fred did that. Ron was actually struck dumb when he realized that his sister was a 'looker'. George was struck dumb by *ahem* realizing that his sister was becoming 'well rounded.' Fred was actually astonished by how grown up his sister looked, but that's not what came out of his mouth. ** And Harry isn't oblivious to Ginny's crush. Rowling's made that clear, he just isn't sure how to handle it.  
  
Alla: Thank you! I hope, at my advanced age, that I know something about human nature. ;-) I'm glad the characters seem realistic. I try to make the conversations read well. And thank you for the compliment on my writing!   
  
Edvardo: Thank you! I'm glad you like my sense of humor! I'm hoping to finish this story this month, so I'll have April and May to write 'A Sirius Situation.'   
  
erin potter: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad my story is worth anybody's time and I'm especially flattered when it's good enough to rate a review! I love stories with a lot of details and build up, too!   
  
Caisha: Thank you! I like those characters, I'm glad I can get that affection to come across in my stories! ** And you get your wish, the Harry Grabber is indeed, Sirius Black!  
  
Freak: How dare I end on a cliff-hanger like that? I love to make my readers scream! (Especially Ozma.)  
  
Speaking of Ozma: Thanks for the scream! Glad I made you laugh as well as scream. ** I hope you don't mind that I took your nickname for Sirius and gave it to Harry. ** I like Hermione and I wanted to see more of Hermione and Harry interacting. ** Loved the comment about 'When Owls Collide!' ** Of course Harry noticed Ginny's gender before he noticed Hermione's. He met Ginny on the platform and he didn't meet Hermione until several hours after they left the station. And both times he noticed they were girls. ** Thanks for telling me which lines you particularly liked! Oh, yes, Ginny is going to get her chance to melt Mr. Potter. Probably won't be until 'A Sirius Situation' though. ** Ron's been _invited_ to go to Bulgaria. We'll get his response to that next chapter. ** Oh, I know the game you mean, now. I think it's spelled 'foosball', but I'm not sure.  
  
silver10fire: Thank you! Glad you thought the chapter was funny (as opposed to stupid!)  
  
Three Sickles Short: Yep, it was Sirius. Yep, he _will_ pay for that nasty trick. If not in this story, then in the next one. ** Viktor knows that somebody is coming in Rupert's place. Right now, he's thinking it will be Harry. He is _not_ a happy camper about it. Ron's been _invited_, but his response has yet to be posted. ** Thanks for letting me know what parts of the story you especially liked. ** I thought 'Wonky Faint' was too funny not to use, especially since I've figured out that 'wonky' means something that's off-kilter.  
  
Wingnut: I have nothing but respect for a person who knows when to panic. Hope this chapter helps you calm down. :-) ** I figure everybody picks on poor old Errol. It was time for him to get a little revenge. ;-)  



	11. Maturity vs Adulthood

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

  
Chapter Eleven: Maturity vs. Adulthood  


  
Hemming and Hawing at the Burrow:  
  
Molly Weasley burst into tears.  
  
"Mum? Mum, what's wrong?" Ginny asked in alarm. They were in her parents' room, standing in front of the only full length mirror in the house while Molly hemmed Ginny's new robes.  
  
"Y… your robes," sniffed Molly.  
  
"It's okay. They're okay, really! The twins didn't hex them or anything!" Ginny said. This wasn't how Ginny had expected her mother to react, but then, Ginny hadn't been sure how her parents would react to the twins' sudden generosity.  
  
"I'm sorry," Molly sniffed. "I always promised myself I wouldn't cry; now here I am blubbing away."  
  
"Mum!" Ginny said, growing increasingly embarrassed. "It's just a party gown, it's not like I'm getting married!"  
  
Molly whipped out a handkerchief and blew her nose. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just so hard for me to see my little girl grow up so fast!" She banished the handkerchief to the laundry hamper and summoned a fresh one.  
  
"Aww, Mum!" Ginny threw her arms around her mother. "Are you going to be like this when I _do_ get married?"  
  
"Worse," Molly admitted. "You'll have to be married in rain gear."  
  
"Mum!" giggled Ginny.  
  
"I do hope Harry won't mind."  
  
"MUM!"  
  
Molly giggled.  
  
"Honestly, Mum, he hasn't even asked me out on a date!"  
  
"Yet," Molly threw in.  
  
"Mum!" Ginny said. "Stop that!"  
  
Molly grinned. "I can see the invitations now: formal robes and wellies; brollies optional."  
  
Ginny giggled. "My poor fiancé!" She shot her mother a sideways look. "Whoever he, _or she_, may be."  
  
Molly just grinned. "Planning to give Ron a little competition for Hermione, are you?"  
  
"Well, she seems to like red-heads," Ginny snickered.  
  
"Oh, you!" Molly shook her head and eyed Ginny's robes. "Here, let me get a look at the fit." The next few minutes involved measuring and trimming and tucking. "There."  
  
Ginny twirled and admired the way the gown flared out. "These are so beautiful! I just love them! I think I'll forgive Fred and George for every nasty stunt they pulled on me." She thought that over. "Most of them, anyway."  
  
"I can't believe how good these colors look on you. You're brothers have a surprisingly good eye."  
  
"They said Madam Gretchen helped them," Ginny said. "I guess it was easy for her to pick a good color for me with Fred and George there as samples."  
  
Molly sighed.  
  
"What's wrong with Madam Gretchen?" Ginny asked. The older girl hadn't passed her OWLs and had left Hogwarts a few years before Ginny had started, but she seemed nice enough. She'd been very helpful when Ginny and Molly went shopping for used robes for Ginny.  
  
"No, there's nothing wrong with Madam Gretchen," Molly said. "I was just thinking this dress could use some nice earrings and maybe a nice necklace." She sighed again. "I'm sorry, Ginny, you seemed to have been cheated."  
  
Ginny hugged her mother again. "Mum, it's not your fault that you don't have a lot of money to spend on me! You're wonderful parents! I'd rather have you than all the Galleons in Gringott's!"  
  
Molly hugged her daughter back. "You're a wonderful daughter!"  
  
"Besides, the only way you could have had more money would be to have less children," Ginny said. "And since I'm the last…"  
  
Molly chuckled. "I wanted a daughter and I wasn't about to stop until I got one!" She gave Ginny a sideways look. "Your father didn't seem to mind…"  
  
"MUM! That's TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!" bellowed Ginny. She blushed, but Molly didn't seem to take offense at being yelled at. Ginny decided to change the subject. "Um, can we use some of this left over material to make hair ribbons?"  
  
"Excellent idea," Molly said. "And I'll check my jewelry drawer to see if I have anything that will look good with these."  
  
"Thanks, Mum," Ginny said.  
  
"Now you run along and get changed so I can get these robes cleaned and pressed. I do hope you have a good time at the Yule ball this year."  
  
"You think they'll have one?" Ginny asked.  
  
"I think that's the plan," Molly said calmly.  
  
When Ginny got back to her room, she couldn't help comparing the quality of her everyday clothes to her new dress robes. It was depressing, really, to see how much difference there was. Not that everyday clothes were _supposed_ to be as good as dress robes, but still, they weren't supposed to be total trash, either. There was no way around it, being poor was the pits.   
  
She wondered if Harry could ever get interested 'that way' about a poor girl.  
  
Thinking about Harry led to worrying about Harry. Worrying about Harry led her to remember one of the main reasons she was worried about Harry; his parents were dead and he had no one to look after him save those awful Dursleys. She took a deep breath and remembered what she told her mother. It was true. She wanted to have money. She understood the twins' and even Percy's determination to get money. But, if she was ever given a choice, she'd rather have her family than gold.  
  
She also made a vow to herself. She would always love Harry. It didn't matter how he felt about her. He needed somebody to love him. And if he only saw her as a little sister, so be it. She'd be a loving little sister to him. She took a deep breath. She would even love his wife, whoever she was. She pulled herself up to her full height and looked herself in the eye in the mirror. Could she do it? Could she love the person Harry married?   
  
"If she makes Harry happy, then, yes, I can love her," Ginny said.   
  
"Beautiful," her mirror said. "You _are_ the fairest in the land."  
  
"Thank you," Ginny said, blushing. She carefully folded her new robes and went down to the kitchen to give them to her Mum.   
  
The only person in the kitchen was Ron, who was scowling at a letter in his hand. Blodwen was shifting back and forth on the Weasley owl perch and looking hopefully at Ron.  
  
"Honestly, Ron," Ginny huffed. She went over to give the poor bird water and some owl treats. "How rude of you!"  
  
Ron didn't respond and Ginny felt a pang of alarm. "What's wrong? Has something happened to Hermione?"  
  
Ron didn't look up until Ginny pinched him.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"Ron, what's wrong?"  
  
"Hermione's father can't go with them to Bulgaria," he said. "She's asked me to go with them, instead. They have three reservations for the Knight Bus and at the International Portkey Terminal. It's already paid for, so they might as well get a substitute."  
  
"Oh, how _wonderful_!" squealed Ginny. "Bulgaria is so beautiful!"  
  
"How would you know?" Ron snapped.  
  
"I've been to Rumania, which is right next door to Bulgaria," Ginny said. "What is your problem? You get a free vacation!"  
  
"Yeah, wonderful, I get to go to a strange place and watch some foreign git put the moves on my best friend. What fun."  
  
Ginny snorted. "_You're_ the git. You _know_ Hermione isn't interested in him."  
  
"But _he's_ interested in _her_."  
  
"Honestly, you're such an ingrate," Ginny snapped. "I'd give… I'd give my new dress robes for a chance like this."  
  
"Yeah, but what would you wear then? Your shabby old hand-me-downs? Do you really want to go to Krum's looking like a beggar? Not that it would make any difference. _You_ don't have to compete against a world-famous Seeker."  
  
"No," Ginny muttered sourly. "I just have to compete with the Ravenclaw Seeker." She bit her lip. After all, it had been less than five minutes ago that she'd been swearing eternal devotion to the love of Harry's life. No, wait, she swore eternal devotion to his _wife_. So, until Harry got married, she was free to be as jealous and petty as she wanted. She sighed with relief.  
  
"What?" Ron demanded. Apparently he thought the sigh was directed at him.  
  
"I just wish you'd grow up," Ginny said. She laid her new robes on the table.  
  
If Ron had a response, he didn't get to use it. Just then, they heard raised voices.  
  
"… after all your father and I have done to give you a good life…!" their mother's voice was steadily rising to a shout.  
  
"Good life?" George was incredulous. "You call _this_ a _good_ life? I know you work hard…"  
  
Ginny and Ron looked for a way out. They could see their mum and the twins outside. No escape there. With one accord, they headed upstairs.  
  
Ron got to his room and was surprised to realize that Ginny was still behind him. "Where are you going?" he asked, rather sourly.  
  
"Up to the attic to finish cleaning," Ginny snapped back. She stomped up the stairs to the attic.  
  
Ron watched her, then closed his mouth. He had been rude, he admitted to himself. "She deserved it," he muttered. "Taking Viktor Bloody Krum's side. She's my sister, she should take _my_ side. Is that too much to ask?"   
  
He closed his door and scowled around the room, looking for something to kick. He hated feeling like this. He hated being poor. He wished his parents had more money. He wished Harry were there. Hell, why he was at it, why not wish that Harry's parents were alive and living next door? He looked at the letter from Hermione that he had crumpled in his hand. Why did she do things like this to him? Didn't she understand what it was like to like somebody who didn't like you back?  
  
No, he decided. Hermione had never suffered from unrequited love. Harry might understand… but Harry never had to contend with a rival who was richer and more famous than he was. Ron snorted. It would be hard to find a wizard who was more famous than Harry Potter… Merlin, maybe.   
  
He made a face. Face it, the only person who'd _really_ understand his situation was Ginny. And he couldn't talk to her because she was mad at him for not wanting to accept Hermione's invitation. He looked at the letter again, and then sat down at his desk. Ginny was right, it was time to grow up.  
  
  
Introducing the Nantucket Sleigh Ride:  
  
"Potter? Potter, wake UP!"  
  
His aunt's shrill voice gradually penetrated through the cotton batting someone had stuffed inside Harry's head.  
  
"Huh?" he managed.  
  
"Get UP!"  
  
Harry managed to shove himself into a sitting position. He squinted at the clock, but all he could see was a blur.  
  
"It's almost seven," snapped his aunt. "Don't think you can lie about all summer, you lazy ingrate."  
  
"Oh," was Harry's witty rejoinder. He managed to fumble his glasses onto his face and squinted at the clock again. It was ten minutes until seven, just like his aunt had said.   
  
"Get dressed and get downstairs, Mrs. Figg has a job for you," Aunt Petunia snapped.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Petunia gave him a last glare to make sure her nephew wasn't going to just fall back asleep. Then she went back downstairs. Harry could hear her talking to Mrs. Figg. "I'm telling you, Arabella, I can't do a _thing_ with that brat! He's impossible!"  
  
*Sigh* Just when he thought his aunt was turning into an actual human being. He scrambled into his new clothes… then scramble out and into some of his usual rags. No sense in letting his aunt see that he had new duds. He managed to get downstairs without breaking any bones or spraining any muscles, much to his surprise.   
  
Aunt Petunia was standing at the back door, talking to Mrs. Figg who stood just outside.  
  
"It's about time, boy," Mrs. Figg said. She wasn't smiling, but Harry was sure she was amused. She'd shown up at five o'clock in the morning to find Harry and Sirius still going over the basics of human to animal transfiguration. She'd gone to bed laughing.  
  
Harry gave her a bleary look and wondered how she could look so… awake… at this obscene hour. " 'lo, Mrs. Figg," he said through a yawn.  
  
"Good morning, boy," Mrs. Figg said. "I've been saddled with this monstrosity for a day or two and I need somebody to look after him."  
  
That's when Harry noticed that Padfoot was standing next to Mrs. Figg. Aunt Petunia must have mistaken his shock at seeing his godfather cavorting about in public for fear because she laughed.  
  
"Do you good to get some exercise, Potter," Aunt Petunia mocked.  
  
Padfoot growled.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked hastily. The last thing he needed was for his godfather to bite his aunt. He didn't want Sirius to get food poisoning. Besides, he knew who'd have to clean up the blood.  
  
"Well, for starters, take him for his morning walk," Mrs. Figg said. She handed a leash to Harry, who took it without thinking.  
  
Harry looked down the alarmingly short distance between his face and Padfoot's. The dog looked amused. Harry guessed what was coming next, but was too fatigued to do anything to avoid it.  
  
Padfoot gave a tremendous 'WOOF' and took off.  
  
The dewy grass was cool and refreshing, but Harry didn't appreciate being dragged through it. He was beginning to believe his aunt's complaints about how many rocks there were in the lawn. Then he was bumping across something a little drier than the grass.  
  
"My pansies!" wailed Petunia.  
  
Ah, that would explain the salad that was going up Harry's nose.  
  
Harry made a valiant, albeit futile, effort to untangle himself from the leash. He wished that the Weasleys had a telephone. He desperately needed some hints from the twins as to how to repay his godfather for this lovely morning walk.  
  
  
Chivalry is Feeling Much Better:  
  
Blodwen settled down on her perch gratefully. It wasn't the flying that bothered her; it was all the yelling at the other end. She had a feeling that there was going to be more yelling at this end.  
  
"Oh, good, Ron's sent his answer," Hermione said. She untied the letter, and then fussed over Blodwen.  
  
"Aren't you going to read your letter?" her mother asked after a few minutes. Emma was fussing with her preparations for Dumbledore's visit.  
  
"I guess I'm a little… nervous," Hermione admitted. She took a deep breath, and then opened the letter.  
  
"_Dear Hermione, Thank you for the invitation, but I pass_."   
  
Hermione crumpled the letter up and threw it into the corner. "That arrogant, idiotic…"  
  
"Hermione, stop!" Emma said. "I can understand your disappointment, but that's no excuse for throwing a tantrum. Now, pick that up and find out why the boy is declining before you lose your temper. He might have a good reason."  
  
"Yeah, he's an idiot," growled Hermione. But she obediently picked up the paper and flattened it out again. "'Dear_ Hermione, Thank you for the invitation, but I pass. I think you should invite Ginny instead_.' Oh," Hermione said.  
  
"Sounds rather generous for a stupid git," Emma said.  
  
"He has his moments," Hermione said. Then she read the rest of the letter.  
  
"_It's not that I don't appreciate your offer, but Ginny loves to travel. She loved Rumania when she went to visit Charlie there. Bulgaria is right next door, so it's probably more of the same (only without Charlie. But at least it will be without dragons, too. She didn't like them.) Things have been pretty tense around here and I think it will do her some good to get out of the Burrow.  
  
"It would do me good to get out of the Burrow, too, but I don't want to leave England now. I don't know if Dumbledore will let Harry come to the Burrow any time soon, or even if he'll let him come at all; but Harry has a better excuse to come if I'm here.   
  
"Please don't think this means that you're less important to me than Harry is. That's not true and never will be. It's just that you have your parents and all Harry has are those creepy Dursleys. Things are bad here right now, but Weasleys at our worse are better than Dursleys at their best.  
  
"Maybe it's stupid of me to think that I can protect my sister, much less Harry, but please understand why I have to try. I wouldn't have a good time in Bulgaria because I'd be spending all my time fretting about them.  
  
"Besides, we both know that it would only be a matter of time, possibly minutes, before I picked a fight with Krum, which wouldn't do this international extend-your-hand-in-friendship program a bit of good.  
  
"Hope you have a wonderful time, and if Krum gets fresh, be sure to transfigure him into something without hands. And send me a picture for my wall.  
  
Cheers, Ron_."  
  
"Well," huffed Hermione. "Transfigure Viktor indeed. He's a gentleman, I guess Ron wouldn't understand."  
  
"Maybe," said her mother.  
  
"But that was sweet of him to suggest Ginny," Hermione said thoughtfully.  
  
"Yes, we can make it an all girl expedition," Emma said. "We can have a good time."  
  
"You're right," Hermione said. She looked at the letter in her hand thoughtfully, and then nodded to herself.  
  


Author's Notes:  
Thanks to all my reviewers! And thank you to all the wonderful people who have put me in their favorites' list! I am flattered that you like my story that much!   
  
A Nantucket Sleigh Ride has nothing to do with sleighs, much less horses. Way back when, whalers plied their trade around the world. They would set out their long boats filled with harpooners to snag their oversized prey. Every now and then, a harpooned whale would decline to just die. Instead, it took off and, if the harpoon stuck, it would drag the luckless long boat after it.  
  
I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but the transfiguration assignment that dealt with changing footstools into sheep is from the Rabbit and Jinx stories – Stuck, Stuck in the Muddle and Ramifications. I highly recommend these!  
  
  
DaBear: I think Sirius has been wrapped around Harry's finger for fifteen years now. ;-)  
  
Taself: Glad the presents worked for you. Yes, a mobile rope has a lot of potential, doesn't it?  
  
Angel of the North: Glad you think the story is 'cool'. I expect Sirius could get into the Dursleys' house if he really wanted to. He broke into Hogwarts, after all. ** No, Sirius hasn't changed the map. It was still just writing to Harry, like before. I suspect the level of rudeness depends on who's talking to it.  
  
lan: I think I've been getting your user name wrong. Is it Lan or Ian? I keep reading it as Ian, but when I copy and paste it into my Author's Notes, Word want to turn it into Lan. ** Snif, you don't like us Evil Writers who use cliffhangers? Oh, dear.  
  
Female Fred: Glad you enjoyed the presents. I don't think Crookshanks can be a normal cat, either. He and Pixie ought to get along well.  
  
Doom Song: Glad to hear from you again!  
  
Ozma: Glad I could give you a pick me up! Glad you liked the punny title. I'm having a hard time coming up with titles now. ** I don't have much experience with babies, so I'm glad that Sirius' description came across well. ** I hadn't thought about which house Mrs. Figg is from. I think I'll make her a Slytherin. Should be fun. I've heard that the next DADA teacher is going to be a woman, so I'm betting either Arabella Figg or Fleur Delacour. ** Neville's Uncle Algie is obviously too stupid and too impatient to let mere boredom trigger Neville's talents. I really dislike that man, and we've never seen him. ** Yeah, I had Mrs. Figg being rude, yet she got in a few compliments, too. (Even if they were left-handed compliments.) ** Sirius once thought that Harry would prefer living with the Dursleys to living with him. He obviously didn't know what they were really like. He took a small measure of revenge this morning. ;-) ** I figure that Harry's bound to feel protective of Ginny, no matter what his ultimate feelings for her are. ** I wanted a magic equivalent of candles that kept relighting themselves. Glad you thought they were cute! ** I had another thought about that rope, Harry's probably imagining tying up Draco Malfoy and dangling him out the Astronomy Tower, but I didn't think of that last night. Maybe I'll give that thought to Ron. ** Yes, trying to track down the Twins' sudden wealth is one of Sirius' assignments. ** Yes, I know what Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny are going to be turning into. ** Yep, A Sirius Situation will be about Harry's fifth year, so I have to have everything finished by June 20th.  
  
SailorChibi: I'll get to Harry's Animagus form before I get to the others. (They won't get forms until A Sirius Situation.)  
  
Lil Lupin: Glad I made you laugh!  
  
Punkin: Love your User Name! Thanks for the review! Your stories are cute, too! I'll try to get by to review them soon. I especially loved Ginny's "non-Valentine" sweater.  
  



	12. Visiting Hours

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  
  
Chapter 12: Visiting Hours  


  
At Mrs. Figg's:  
  
It's very hard to discreetly pull vincas from the back of your shirt, Harry discovered.   
  
"Boy, just take your shirt off and shake it out," Mrs. Figg was really enjoying Harry's discomfort.  
  
Harry looked at her sideways as he tried to pull some alyssum out of his hair and shove an overly affectionate Burmese cat away with the other.  
  
"Really, Potter," Mrs. Figg smirked. "It's nothing I haven't seen before. I used to change your nappies and bathe you, remember."  
  
"I've been _trying_ to _forget_ that," Harry muttered.  
  
Mrs. Figg just laughed. "You sound like your father. I remember the time he had some Creeping Martians get into his pants and he got stung…"  
  
"I think that's more information than I really need," Harry interupted hastily. Then he frowned. "What are Creeping Martians?" He pushed an lovelorn Persian cat off of his lap and scratched the ears of a Siamese cat that was rubbing its chin against his trainers.  
  
"They're a type of insectivorous plant that like to creep into spiderwebs and ambush the spiders. They have a nasty sting."  
  
"How'd they get into his _pants_?" Harry demanded.  
  
"You'll have to ask Sirius about that," Mrs. Figg said with a grin. "James couldn't sit for a week."  
  
"How come you know about this?"  
  
"He was in my class," Mrs. Figg said smugly.   
  
"Let me guess," Harry said wryly. "Defense Against the Dark Arts." He pulled a dandelion from his shoe and scowled. "Great, and now the dandelions are back." He picked up an amorous Abyssian that had begun chewing on his shin.  
  
"No, I taught home economics," Mrs. Figg said facetiously.  
  
Harry wrinkled his nose at her, then he was distracted when a silver tabby grabbed him around the ankle. "What is _with_ these cats?" Harry demanded.  
  
"It's the vinca," Mrs. Figg said. "It's almost like catnip to them."  
  
"_Really_?" Harry grinned at her.  
  
Mrs. Figg laughed.   
  
"You wouldn't be plotting against you're loving godfather, now would you?" Sirius demanded, bounding into the room. His hair was wet and he was dressed in fresh Muggle clothing, blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He had tried to convince Mrs. Figg that all the dirt being tracked around was Harry's fault, but Mrs. Figg had simply glared at Sirius until the Animagus had retreated to the bathroom.  
  
"Oh, no," Harry said. "I was just wondering if Snape liked cats, is all." He smiled sweetly at Sirius.  
  
"You're _much_ better at that faux innocent look than James was," Sirius said happily.  
  
"Maybe Harry is actually innocent?" Mrs. Figg said.  
  
"Silly girl, he's a _Potter_!"  
  
Harry gave Sirius a sideways look.  
  
"See? He's plotting already, my little Marauder!"  
  
Harry gave Sirius a sour look. "That isn't funny," he said.  
  
"Yes it is," Sirius said cheekily.  
  
"Neither was that stunt you pulled in Aunt Petunia's garden," Harry went on.  
  
"That was _definitely_ funny," Sirius differed. "We got back at your aunt _and_ you can't get in trouble for it."  
  
"Can't get into trouble!? *I'm* the one who has to put that garden back to rights!" Harry exploded.  
  
"Grumpy, aren't you? Didn't you get enough sleep?" Sirius dug his hands into Harry's tangled hair and came away with a handful of vincas, poppies and chocolate frogs.  
  
Harry made a show of ignoring him. "May I use your bathroom?" he asked Mrs. Figg.  
  
"Certainly, you can use a guest bedroom, if you'd rather," she replied.  
  
"Oh, no, Harry needs the _bathroom_!" Sirius chimed in. "How _else_ can he get some cat-attracting vincas into my flea dip?"  
  
Harry stalked out of the kitchen, stalked back in, grabbed some of the chocolate frogs, stalked back out and slammed the bathroom door hard enough for it to bounce open.   
  
Harry sighed and started to pull the door shut again. Then he heard Mrs. Figg and Sirius talking and couldn't resist listening for a few minutes.  
  
"Tsk," Sirius said. "No manners, that boy."  
  
"Got that from you," Mrs. Figg said. "Honestly, Sirius, you should have sent him home sooner, you know that. He needs his sleep."  
  
Harry heard Sirius' voice get suddenly sober. "I know, I just… it's _hard_, you know, to send him away. I want to _keep_ him."  
  
"I don't blame you," Mrs. Figg said.   
  
Harry gently shut the door. His desire for revenge against Sirius faded abruptly.  
  
It came back during lunch, because Sirius spent most of the meal throwing out suggestions for pranks that Harry might pull on him to get even. Including short-sheeting his bed, substituting salt for sugar and making a shaving cream pie.  
  
Harry endured this dourly until the shaving cream gag came up. "Do wizards use shaving cream?" he asked, perking up. "I thought they'd hex their whiskers off. Eloise Midgen tried hexing her acne off once."  
  
"Really? What happened?" Mrs. Figg asked.  
  
"Her nose fell off," Harry said.  
  
"Which shows why one should be careful about throwing hexes at one's own self," Sirius said, earnestly. "There _are_ charms for removing whiskers, but they can be tricky. If the wizard is impaired, sleepy, or just stupid, he can easily remove his eyebrows or the hair on his head."  
  
"Or he could have something really nasty happen," Mrs. Figg said. "Something he can't reverse."  
  
"Like what?" Harry asked.  
  
"Haven't you ever wondered why Snape apparently never washes his hair? Or why he never seems to need to shave?"  
  
Harry gaped. "No! A shaving charm?"  
  
"Well, it's just a theory," Sirius admitted. "But it seems to fit."  
  
Harry shook his head. "You're impossible," he said fondly.  
  
"Full marks!" Sirius said, as if he'd been complimented. "As a reward, you get another lesson in the fine art of giving Snape a heart attack! Otherwise known as beginning animagus transfiguration." He handed Harry another chocolate frog.  
  
"You are barking mad, Sirius Black," Mrs. Figg said. "Does Dumbledore know about this?"  
  
"Not yet," Sirius admitted. "I have to get this project started while I have time to spend with my godson."  
  
"Why? He's not even fifteen, for crying out loud. Human to animal transfiguration isn't a child's game."  
  
"It's just that I have these numerical ambitions," Harry said glumly.   
  
"Numerical ambitions?" Mrs. Figg asked.  
  
"You know, like reaching my fifteenth birthday," Harry said, eyeing Mrs. Figg challengingly.  
  
"Point taken," Mrs. Figg said. "All things considered, I rather prefer you alive." She thought of something sarcastic to add to that, but Harry actually smiled at her and she decided to leave well enough alone.  
  
"Great," Sirius said. "Now all you have to do right now is sneak back into the Dursleys and grab the Survival Guide, unless you have it on you?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "You didn't exactly give me a chance to grab it," he responded.  
  
Sirius just grinned. "You needed some action to wake you up, kid," he replied.  
  
"You're too kind," Harry said.  
  
"I know," Sirius grinned.  
  
Harry went back to contemplating Sirius Revenge.  
  
  
At the Grangers:  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked exactly how Emma Granger pictured him. Tall, dignified, with the white beard and moustache… 'He could easily play Merlin or Gandalf' was how Hermione had described him that first letter she'd written from school.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore! Please, come in!" Emma said with a gracious smile.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's voice was deep and soothing.  
  
"Professor Albus Dumbledore, this is my mother, Mrs. Emma Granger," Hermione said.  
  
"It's a pleasure to welcome you to our home, Headmaster," Emma said.   
  
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," Dumbledore said, bowing over Mrs. Granger's hand.  
  
Hermione got the rare treat of seeing her studious, self-possessed mother blush like a Weasley.  
  
"Rupert has been delayed, but he should be arriving shortly. Please, allow us to show you around our house," Emma stammered.  
  
"Thank you, I confess, it has been quite a while since I've been in a non-Wizarding home," Dumbledore murmured.  
  
Dumbledore's interest was flattering and his manner so friendly that Emma found herself relaxing. It really was quite enjoyable to compare the Wizarding way of doing things with the Muggle way. Then they arrived at the area where Muggle technology and Wizarding magic were in complete harmony.  
  
"And this is our library," Emma said. "Not as impressive as your own, I imagine," she added rather shyly.  
  
"I beg to differ," Dumbledore said, looking at the cozy room with all its bookshelves and comfy chairs. There was a fireplace on one wall and a family portrait above it. "This is entirely as impressive as my private library." He smiled. "I confess I am not at all surprised to find that Hermione's home has its own library."  
  
"Doesn't everybody?" murmured Emma.  
  
Dumbledore looked at her and grinned at the twinkle in her eye. "All the best houses do, anyway," he replied. The pictures on the mantel caught his eye and he moved to take a closer look. "I confess I am amazed at color photographs," he said. "I wonder if some clever witch or wizard will find a way to make colour Wizarding photographs."  
  
"I'd bet on a Muggle-born," Hermione said. "We're more used to the idea of having colour photographs."  
  
Dumbledore nodded as he examined the pictures. There was a picture of Rupert and Emma looking radiantly happy on their wedding day. One was of a very young Hermione in a fluffy white dress sitting on a black and white Shetland pony. Both Hermione and the pony looked dubious about the whole affair.  
  
"You don't look very comfortable in this picture," Dumbledore observed. His moustache twitched slightly.  
  
"I've never enjoyed riding," Hermione said dryly. "Frankly, the higher off the ground I am, the less happy I am."   
  
Dumbledore nodded, but made no comment. He had nothing admiration for Hermione's part in Sirius' rescue, considering her fear of heights. He decided that saying anything right now would only embarrass the girl. He picked up a photograph featuring a very familiar duo. "Speaking of unhappy, Mr. Potter looks rather distressed in this picture."  
  
Hermione grinned. "That's Harry about to lose at chess," she explained. Her grin became wider. "Sorry, that's Harry about to lose at chess _again_."  
  
"Ron Weasley is quite good, isn't he?" Dumbledore's moustache twitched again and his eyes filled with mischief.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm afraid that several of us on the staff have taken to teasing Professor McGonagall about her giant chess set losing to a first-year."  
  
"Maybe Professor McGonagall should challenge Ron to a game of chess," Emma suggested. "See if she can redeem herself."  
  
"I'll suggest that to her sometime," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. He tilted the picture and eyed it curiously.  
  
Hermione took a guess as to what he was thinking. "That's not a particularly good picture of them, but it's the only Muggle photo I have of them, so it's the one that I can keep downstairs." She looked at the pictures critically. "I don't have one of Ginny down here, either. I'm going to have to take up photography, I guess."  
  
"I think Mr. Colin Creevy would be more than happy to supply you with motionless pictures," Dumbledore said with a smile.  
  
"Somehow I don't doubt you," Hermione said. "Unfortunately, Colin has a talent for getting on Harry's nerves. He really hates that 'Boy-Who-Lived' rigmarole. Colin and Dennis make him uncomfortable. None of their pictures of him come out very well," she cocked her head and considered. "Although, I suppose they'd look better if the photographic Harry wasn't always trying to sneak out of the picture."  
  
"Pity," Emma said. "I think that the Creevy boys would have an easier time making friends with Harry if they would just be themselves instead of trying to be the person they think Harry wants them to be."  
  
"I agree," Dumbledore said.   
  
"You're probably right," Hermione sighed. "Maybe I should offer him lessons in 'How to Be Harry Potter's Friend.' She thought that Ginny could use some tutelage in that, also.  
  
Emma giggled, and then her attention was diverted to her watch. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish my preparations." She hurried off with a preoccupied air.   
  
"I have some more pictures in my room, would you like to seem them?" Hermione said, wondering how to explain herself.  
  
"Please," Dumbledore said.   
  
Hermione's room was tidy, clean and filled with bookcases. There were photographs everywhere: on the desk, on the bookcases, even on the shelves between the books and the edge. There were black and white photograph Wizard photographs as well as color Muggle photographs. There were photographs of Hermione studying, sitting in the Common Room with Ginny, and standing next to Hogwarts' gates with Ron and Harry.  
  
There were less traditional poses as well.   
  
"That's me before I entered Hogwarts," Hermione said, pointing to a color picture of a large book.   
  
By squinting, Dumbledore could make out the top of Hermione's head over the book.  
  
"This is me at Hogwarts," Hermione said, pointing to a black and white picture of even larger book. The top of Hermione's head wasn't visible, but every now and then her hand would appear and flip the page.  
  
The black and white picture next to it was a very familiar scene. "I see you have a picture of the Gryffindor Common Room," Dumbledore murmured.  
  
Hermione grinned. "Actually, that's a picture of Harry, Ron and me standing in front of the fireplace.  
  
Dumbledore shot her a sideways look. "Wearing Mr. Potter's invisibility cloak, no doubt," he said in an amused voice.  
  
Hermione grinned and nodded. "That's our story, and we're sticking to it."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, but waited patiently. Hermione appreciated him waiting for her to get to the subject. "I'm worried about Harry," Hermione said. "I mean, I know we all are, but…" she hesitated.  
  
"But there's something bothering you other than the outcome of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"  
  
"A couple of things," Hermione said. She took a deep breath. "I'd appreciate it if you would never repeat this to anyone, especially Ron, who already thinks so, but sometimes I think I read too much." She was gasping for breath and she could feel her face heating up; but Dumbledore didn't look scornful or amused.  
  
She gestured to her books. "I was looking for something to read, and, well, there's a trend in my books that bothers me." She went over and began pulling out some books. "I was looking at all these books about heroes and, well, Robin Hood, Hercules, and Sigurd were murdered. Cuchulain, Brian Boru, Bellerophon, Theseus and Jason came to bad ends. Beowulf won against Grendel and his mother, but lost against the dragon.   
  
She walked over to her bookcase as she continued her depressing catalog. "The whole Roundtable couldn't save Arthur. Most of the Fianna died violently. Roland dies in battle. The city of Troy is destroyed, and the Greeks didn't get happy endings, either. I mean, Odysseus finally managed to get home, but none of his crew did. And… I don't want Harry to die."   
  
She stopped because her throat had tightened up and her eyes were burning. She was afraid that she was going to start crying. She didn't know why she was whining to Dumbledore, anyway. It wasn't like he could change the tragedies of the past. He might not be able to prevent a future tragedy, either.  
  
Dumbledore gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Your concern does you credit, Miss Granger," he said. "I don't believe that you read too much. There's a saying: 'Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.'" He walked over to the bookcase and fingered some of the spines. "I wish I could assure you that Harry is safe, unfortunately, as you undoubtedly have realized, I do not have that kind of power. If I did, I assure you that Harry would _not_ be an orphan."  
  
Hermione nodded and moved a few steps to her desk so she could pick up a picture of Harry and Parvati dressed up to go to the Yule Ball. "It's just not fair," she said. She put that down and picked up a picture of Ginny and Neville.  
  
"No, it is not fair," Dumbledore said. "However, it is not completely hopeless."  
  
"What can we do?" Hermione said. "I want to do more than try to cheer him up with aromatherapy and telephone calls."  
  
"One of the main things we can do is to learn from the mistakes of others," Dumbledore said. "I don't want to denigrate the heroes of the past, but a lot of heartbreak of the past might have been avoided. Arthur and the Roundtable, Sigurd and the Volsungs, Finn Mac Cumhaill and the Fianna were almost invincible… until they started fighting among themselves. Brian Boru was unassailable from without, it was his brother's constant war-mongering that doomed him."  
  
"We must all hang together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separate," Hermione said darkly.  
  
"Indeed," Dumbledore was not surprised that Hermione could quote from American history. "Mr. Benjamin Franklin had a way with words, didn't he?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"The Greeks would have done well had Aesop been there to inform them about strength in unity, their expeditionary force against Troy spent as much time fighting among themselves, and the people they left at home, as they did fighting the Trojans. Odysseus and his crew would have been home safely, and in record time, except his crew's distrust and disobedience caused them to be blown off course."  
  
Hermione blinked and the burning began to subside as she remembered. "Yes, I remember, Aeolus, the god of the winds, put the winds that were unfavorable to Odysseus into a bag. When they got within sight of Ithaca, the crew opened the bag because they thought they could steal some treasure."  
  
"And the winds blew them back to Aeolus, who refused to help them again," Dumbledore said. "Odysseus' ego didn't help, either. He would have been better off if he had resisted the urge to brag to Polyphemus."  
  
"And tell the Cyclops that it was Odysseus who had blinded him," Hermione added thoughtfully. "That got Polyphemus' father, Poseidon, after Odysseus."  
  
"Yes, much as I hesitate to speak against past heroes, they had their weaknesses. Odysseus was proud. Hercules spent a lot of time and effort avenging slights he would have done better to forget. Theseus chose to believe liars and murdered his own son. Jason abandoned the wife who had sacrificed so much for him. Bellerophon let his fame go to his head. The whole Trojan war can be attributed to the Trojan royal family's habit of breaking promises and abusing hospitality."  
  
"Somehow I can't see Harry getting that arrogant, no matter what Professor Snape says about him."  
  
"I would hope not," Dumbledore said. "That's another thing we can work towards." He smiled at her and she smiled back.  
  
Then Dumbledore became serious again. "There are two dangers that we need to be especially vigilant against. Cuchulain was overwhelmed by a great many enemies. Now, Harry isn't ruled by geas, the way Cuchulain was. However, Voldemort's followers may be able to outflank him because of one flaw that Harry may be prey to. The flaw that caused Roland's death."  
  
"Roland refused to call for help… and Harry tends to think he has to do everything by himself," Hermione said wryly.  
  
"He needs to learn that he can depend on others," Dumbledore said.  
  
"He's afraid that someone else is going to get hurt because of him," Hermione said.  
  
"Yes, his concern does him credit, but he cannot be allowed to cut himself off from everyone who cares about him." Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "And the last danger is treachery. Robin Hood was murdered by someone he trusted. Beowulf was deserted by all but one of his followers." Dumbledore suddenly looked very old. "James and Lily put their faith in the wrong man."  
  
"Headmaster? This may be out of line, but…" Hermione tailed off uncertainly.  
  
"You have my permission to speak freely, Miss Granger."  
  
"It's not your fault," Hermione said. Then she plunged ahead. "You can't control other people's decisions. The Potter's decided who their secret keeper would be and Pettigrew decided to betray them. You are not to blame."  
  
Dumbledore made a wry face, but he looked more like himself. "You sound like me trying to convince Sirius that it wasn't his fault the Potters were murdered."  
  
"It will be harder to convince Harry that he's not to blame for Cedric's death if you and Sirius keep blaming yourselves for murders that you didn't commit."  
  
Dumbledore actually grinned at that. "Point taken, Miss Granger. Speaking of points to make, I notice that you did not mention how Perseus or Gilgamesh died."  
  
Hermione blinked and was silent for a few minutes. "Erm, I don't remember how they died," she confessed.   
  
"I don't think their deaths were mentioned in mythology," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid it's much too boring to talk about somebody living to a ripe old age and dying peacefully in his sleep."  
  
Hermione smiled. "So it _is_ possible, then," she said wistfully.  
  
"Anything is possible," Dumbledore said. "It's up to us to determine which possibility becomes reality."  
  
###  
  
Author's Notes:

Doom Song: Thanks for the kind words! Sorry, I seemed to have been cut off during our IM conversation and I couldn't remember what SN you were using.  
  
DaBear: Thanks! Yeah, Padfoot is probably more massive than poor Harry. The poor boy had no chance at all once he'd been pulled off his feet.  
  
Rhiain: Thanks! I had to get Sirius in here!   
  
Taself: Thank you! Ginny's one of my favorite characters, as you could probably tell.   
  
Punkin: I've always had trouble meeting deadlines. It's lucky that I'm on a roll with this story. ** Thanks for all the compliments! You read my story to your roommate? WoW! I'm really flattered that you like it enough to read it out loud! Tell your roommate I said 'hi!'. ** I think it's about time Ron started to grow up. I think Rowling has taken him to the extreme of immaturity, time to head the other way. ** I figure Molly would want to take the opportunity to do a little female bonding, not to mention keep Ginny interested in a boy she approves of. (And right now, the fact that Harry isn't interested in Ginny is a plus. One less thing for Molly to worry about.) ** Good luck with your fiction!   
  
Angel of North: Thanks!  
  
Lan: No more cliffies? Snf. Not even one? Erm, I've got one coming up soon, sorry. Although this time I bowed to your wishes and stopped before I got to the one I had planned for this chapter.  
  
Pegoheart144: Thanks! I love Sirius! Had to use him.  
  
MoNmOn: Thanks! I think Ron is a sweetie, too!  
  
VenusDeOmnipotent: Welcome back! Glad you still like my story! Whoops, I left Pixie out, didn't I? She's exploring the Weasleys' attic when she's not begging for food in the kitchen. ** Loved your story about Cho teaching Cedric to use chopsticks. ("No, they're not useless wands!") ** Krum putting the moves on Ginny? Nope, that's not why she slugs him.   
  
Shyanne: Thank you! Harry is going to get back at Sirius in a way nobody was expecting and Ron's maturity about the All Girl's Trip to Bulgaria is going to have an unexpected payoff for him.  
  
GingaNic1: Thank you! Chapter fourteen is half finished!   
  
Andrea13: Thanks! Full marks, it _was_ Sirius! I thought Harry deserved a Wizarding birthday party. ** I like Ron, he was noble in that chess game against McGonagall's chess set, so I'm expecting him to be noble again. ** I think I'd cry all during my daughter's wedding. ** Love your Thinking Cap stories!!  
  
SailorChibi: Aw, Ron's been unselfish before, like in the chess game with the giant chessmen and when he let Harry practice hexes on him. ** I couldn't resist the image of Harry being dragged through the garden.  
  
  
Yemming: Hi and thanks for the review! Yes, I have stories at Sugarquill and GryffindorTower.  
  
Coolone007: You won't have to wait very long to find out what Harry turns into! ** Hm, Hermione pranking Ron? Hm.   
  
Ozma: Thanks! I figure Ginny has that Gryffindor nobility, but she's a little young to have to exercise it all the time! ** Ron's the same, I think (as you can tell). He's really a good boy, the fight with Harry in the fourth book was only a temporary aberration. ** Sirius just can't stay serious for very long, can he? I think he is trying to make up for lost time. ** Yep, I'm including Ginny in this one, too! Hope you like the forms I've picked! ** Thanks for the nice long review! ** Yep, A Sirius Situation is coming soon. I hope I can finish these two stories in time!  
  
Freak: Thank you! I think Sirius is trying very hard to have a good time after all those horrors he faced in Azkaban. He doesn't want to be grim when he can be A Grim!  
  
Perri Smith: I am so flattered that you like my story enough to re-read it! Thanks! I'm also glad you think the dialog reads well, I work hard on that! I hope we see more of Ginny in Book Five! ** We're even! I stayed late at work to read your review! Thanks!  
  
Alla: I try to keep my customers happy! ** I'm with you on the Harry/Sirius business. I really hope they get to have a happily ever after, but I'm scared they won't. ** Thanks for the positive feedback on my version of Mrs. Figg! I wanted something a little different for her, so I threw in a lot of me! (I'm not _quite_ that bad, but I think like she does!) ** I figure it's natural for mothers to get teary eyed as their children grow up! (On the other hand, if Fred and George would grow up, Molly would be very happy!)  
  
Three Sickles Short: As always, thanks for telling me the parts that really worked for you! ** Sirius is working on the hugs department. ** I think a lot of orphans go through what Harry's going through. It must be hard to never know the people who brought you into this world. ** I hope the readers haven't forgotten about the trunk! Got plans for it!  
  
Lilia: Thanks for the kind words! Yep, Rupert and Emma. I wanted some really English names for Hermione's parents and who better to name them after than two of my favorite British actors?   
  
Bob: You're reading my mind, but not about Ron's Animagus form. Turning Ron into a fish is cold-blooded and _definitely_ me, but I already have their shapes all picked out (although I'm still flexible about Ginny's.) All the Animagus humor is going to be at Hermione's expense, I'm afraid.  
  
tabula rasa: Thank you! There are a lot of things I'd love to see in the Potterverse that I don't think JK will get to, glad my version works for you! The only problem with canon is that it is only from Harry's POV. (On the other hand, if it had other POV's she'd probably still be writing Book Three!) Again, thank you for your kind review! Sometimes I wonder if all the writing is worth it, but reviews like this make me realize that it is!  
  
Lourdes: Hedwig has shown signs of sarcasm, especially in Book Four. ** Nope, I'm American (but I have a high percentage of Scot in me.) ** Glad you thought my story was worth reading all in one sitting! I will do my very best to finish this off before June! (Have I lied to you? Lately, I mean.)  
  
Storyteller: Thank you so much!  
  
Little House Girl: Thank you! I plan to keep writing to the end and beyond!  
  
Chary! There you are! Thanks for the info on Bonfire night! (Jill falls off her bed laughing as she gets the joke all the British readers got two books ago – Dumbledore's glorious phoenix is named after an anarchist! LoL!) ** Yep, socks and underwear are staple gifts at Christmas around here. ** She's a nutter, got it. (She's a nutter, I'm a nutter, wouldn't you like to be a nutter, too?) ((Sorry, Dr. Pepper ad flashback there.)) ** I don't think Harry's ever just talked to the Marauder's Map. Be interesting to see what the map had to say to him. ** Mrs. Figg is very practical and she hates seeing something done wrong. My take on her is that she was ready to strangle Petunia, not because she was especially fond of Harry, but she can see how Petunia is damaging BOTH boys. ** Thanks! I think Ron is a good kid with a lot of heart. He just needs a chance to shine a bit! ** Chapter fourteen is almost ready!   
  
Alina: WHEE! (Throws confetti!) You are my two-hundredth review! Thanks! I am so happy that this story is going over well! ** You'll see the trunk soon. Harry will probably need the map. Harry repays the walk next chapter (which is fourteen, not thirteen, because there IS NO CHAPTER THIRTEEN!) ** Changing the Dursleys into Blast-Ended Skrewts would make them more dangerous, but at least they'd be less disgusting.  
  
  
  



	13. There is NO Chapter 13

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  


THERE IS NO CHAPTER THIRTEEN!!!

Move along., please.


	14. Tea With Lions

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used   
without permission or intent to make a profit.  
  
Chapter 14: Tea with Lions

  
Rupert arrived to find his family and Dumbledore sitting in the library with the tea, finger sandwiches, biscuits, tarts, Mars Bars and several cans of soft drinks.  
  
"Sorry to be late," Rupert said when he was introduced to Dumbledore. He surveyed the table. "I see Emma has broken out the haute cuisine," he said.  
  
"Your daughter is under the impression that I am fond of sweets," Dumbledore said with a smile. "She and your wife thought that I might enjoy tasting some Muggle sweets."  
  
"We did save you a bite or two, dear," Emma said sweetly.  
  
"I appreciate that," Rupert gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I would have been home sooner, but there was a bit of a tie up in traffic," he added.   
  
"Not to worry," Dumbledore said. "I understand how traffic can hold one up." He grinned. "Once I ran into such a terrible crush in the Floo network that I wound up disembarking into a smoke-house. I smelled like a ham for a week."  
  
The Grangers giggled.  
  
"I was alarmingly popular with the local dogs, too," Dumbledore added, much to the Grangers' amusement.   
  
"Speaking of scents," Rupert said. "I've been wondering what became of your aromatherapy experiments, Hermione."  
  
"I was wondering about that myself," Dumbledore admitted. "How did you deliver the scents to Harry?"  
  
"Well, I sprayed some on one of my letters," Hermione said.  
  
Dumbledore and Rupert exchanged amused looks.  
  
"Hermione, dear, you realize that Harry might… misinterpret your gesture."   
  
"I told him that I spilled perfume on the letter," Hermione said with dignity.  
  
"Did he believe you?"  
  
"Well, he wanted to know when I started wearing perfume," Hermione said. "So I told him that I was experimenting with aroma therapy because of all the stress I'd been under."  
  
"What did Harry have to say to that?" Emma asked.  
  
"Erm, he asked if I had been experimenting on him," Hermione admitted. "That's when I blatantly changed the subject."  
  
The adults laughed. Hermione smiled wryly.  
  
Dumbledore looked at Hermione curiously. "You say that as if you were actually speaking to him."  
  
Hermione nodded. "We managed to reach him by telephone," she said. "It was very nice talking to him, even if he did take the opportunity to tease me about homework."  
  
"Thus adding support to your essay," Rupert added slyly.  
  
"Dad!" Hermione hissed.  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "And what essay would that be? I take it this doesn't have anything to do with school."  
  
"Oh, this is an extra-curricular project," Rupert said. "The 'All Boys are Prats' essay."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore said. His eyes danced merrily. "Would this be especially true of red-headed boys?"  
  
Hermione eyed him narrowly. "Harry told me that you used to have red hair," she said warningly. "Don't tempt me to agree with you."  
  
The adults laughed. "Oh, dear," he said. "It appears that no secret is safe from Mr. Potter. Did he happen to mention how he learned that?"  
  
Hermione gave him a look strongly reminiscent of the ones McGonagall gave him when he brought up THAT chess game.  
  
"You'd have to ask Harry," Hermione said primly.   
  
Emma changed the subject serenely. "Harry sounds like a pleasant young man."  
  
"One we wouldn't mind entertaining in our home," Rupert said.  
  
"You realize that having Harry in your home may be dangerous?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Rupert and Emma exchanged one of those information laden glances at each other, and then faced Dumbledore.   
  
"We can hardly not know, what with Hermione being turned into stone a few years ago," Rupert said.  
  
"Not to mention all the fuss over Sirius Black, who isn't a homicidal maniac, but who is also a trouble magnet," Emma added.  
  
"I see Hermione has kept you informed," Dumbledore said approvingly.  
  
"I don't like keeping secrets from my parents," Hermione said. She looked at him anxiously, but he didn't look angry.  
  
"And it's not like there's anybody we'd tell about this, anyway," Rupert added. "There's not much chance of someone overhearing us talk about the situation."  
  
"I don't see how having Harry here could increase our danger," added Emma. "Hermione tells us that we are _already_ in danger. Which brings us to the purpose of your visit."  
  
Dumbledore's expression went grave. "I am afraid that your daughter is correct. These are dark times, I'm afraid. Voldemort is fanatically anti-Muggle. He despises the idea of Muggle-born students attending Hogwarts and your daughter is one of the most prominent Muggle -born students in Hogwarts at the moment."  
  
Hermione bit her lip and stared down at her hands.  
  
"It's not her fault that she's a good student," Rupert said, rather hotly. Then he blushed. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault this Voldemort character is a bigot."  
  
Hermione forced herself not to flinch. She wasn't even sure if it was the name or the casual way her father said it.  
  
"No, it's not a fault to strive for excellence," Dumbledore said gently. "Nor is it a fault to help a friend."  
  
"But when that friend is Harry, helping him means making enemies," Hermione said grimly, still staring at her hands. She toyed with her glass of root beer.  
  
"Yes, helping Harry has made you enemies," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"I'd do it all again," Hermione said.   
  
"Even getting petrified?" Dumbledore teased.  
  
Hermione gave him a stern look.   
  
Dumbledore managed a look of mock contrition and Hermione relented a little.  
  
"Well, maybe not the getting petrified part… No, I can't even take that back. If I _hadn't_ been there with my mirror, I might have avoided being petrified, but Penelope Clearwater might have been killed."  
  
This time Dumbledore really looked abashed. "An excellent point, Miss Granger, one can never be certain how one's actions will affect others. Any change to the past could have unforeseen and catastrophic consequences on the present."  
  
The atmosphere was rather sober for a few minutes, and then Hermione decided that it wouldn't help anybody to sit around and brood, so she said. "Please, call me Hermione."  
  
Dumbledore, getting a dose of his own teasing, grinned at her. "Thank you, Hermione." He cleared his throat. "Now, as to protecting your parents… Miss Granger," he said, looking at her over his half-moon spectacles.   
  
Hermione resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. There was a big difference between lightening the mood and being ridiculous.  
  
"You realize that there is no such thing as perfect protection," Dumbledore warned. "A determined Witch, Wizard or even a Muggle can circumvent just about any protection we can conjure up. We also have to take into account mistakes on our part, Acts of God and sheer dumb luck."  
  
Rupert nodded. "We understand. However, we don't expect to be wrapped in cotton batting. We'd just prefer not to be strolling around with targets on our backs."  
  
"_Quite_ understandable," Dumbledore said, nodding sagely. "There are several charms that can be placed on your home and your place of business," Dumbledore said. "I will place those charms myself, if you so chose. There is also the option of providing you with a bodyguard."  
  
He paused as if seeking a way to phrase his next suggestion. "Forgive me if this next suggestion sounds rude," he said. "There is always the extreme tactic."  
  
"You mean, run away?" Rupert asked with one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "I can transfer Hermione to any number of excellent Wizarding schools… on the continent, elsewhere in the British Commonwealth or somewhere in the Americas. There are also several excellent sorcerers that I know of who will take on apprentices. Any of them would be grateful to acquire a student of your daughter's caliber."  
  
"Or we could leave the Wizarding world altogether," Emma said. "Immigrate to a different country and send Hermione to a Muggle school. She'd be a bit off track, but I know my daughter can catch up and excel at any course of studies she undertakes." She gave her daughter a proud look.  
  
Hermione was too busy digging her fingernails into the arms of her chair to notice. "In other words, you want me to abandon Harry," she said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Your father and I did not say that we wanted you to abandon Harry," Emma said quietly. "We were just mentioning a possible course of action."  
  
"We went through this year before last," Hermione said.  
  
"When you wanted to stay in school, even though Harry was being stalked by a mad axe murderer… sorry, mad wand murderer," Rupert said.  
  
Hermione glowered at her parents. "I told you that I wanted to stay because I was sure I could prevent him from doing something stupid."  
  
Rupert held up his hands. "Whoa, we know you are extremely capable, my dear, but not even you can prevent stupid things from happening to your friend."  
  
"In any case, your father and I have decided that running isn't a viable option," Emma turned to Dumbledore. "No offence, Headmaster, but we only know of one instance of a Wizarding family going into hiding, and frankly, it's not very reassuring."  
  
"The Potters," Dumbledore said.  
  
They were all quiet for a few moments in respect for a brave couple. Once again, Hermione wondered what Harry felt when he thought about his parents. She hated the thought of being an orphan.  
  
"There have been more successful attempts," Dumbledore said mildly. "You must also take into account the fact that the Potters were betrayed."  
  
"By Peter Pettigrew, not Sirius Black," Rupert said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Still, there's no guarantee that running will help us," Rupert went on. "Even if You-Know-Who's forces don't track us down, there's no telling what other sorts we might run into. There are probably anti-Muggle Wizarding folks all over the globe, and they will probably be better at spotting us than we are at spotting them."  
  
"Unfortunately, that does follow, as any Anti-Muggle types that you might meet are likely to be fully trained Wizards."  
  
"There's also the matter of abandoning Harry," Hermione said, more calmly. "My running away would hurt his feelings tremendously. On top of that, Harry being abandoned by one of his most vocal supports would give both You-Know-Who and Fudge's factions a tremendous boost. I'm sure they could both manufacture some cutting propaganda from it."  
  
"And there's our feelings about the matter," Emma interposed. "We don't like the idea of Hermione being in danger."  
  
"Frankly, we don't like being in danger ourselves," Rupert added.  
  
"But we can't bring ourselves to abandon that poor boy," Emma added firmly. "Even if there isn't much we can do for him besides support Hermione's decision to stand and fight."  
  
Dumbledore smiled at them. "My friend Hypatia once asked me an interesting riddle, 'Where do Lions come from?' Do you know?"  
  
Rupert studied him with his head cocked. "My first instinct is to say 'Africa,' but somehow I don't think that's what you're getting at."  
  
Emma blinked. "I think this is leading up to a compliment, Rupert," she said.  
  
"It is," Dumbledore said. "Lions come from other lions, of course. It's obvious how your daughter came by her Gryffindor courage."  
  
Both Hermione's parents blushed, but before they could come up with a response, Dumbledore got to his feet.   
  
"To business, then," He reached into an inner pocket and brought out two wooden cases. He laid one on the table and opened the other.  
  
All three Grangers were on their feet in an instant, craning to get a better look. For a few minutes, Hermione thought that the golden object was a Snitch, which just went to prove that she'd been hanging around Harry and Ron far too long.  
  
"These watched are specialized Portkeys. If somebody throws a curse or a strong spell at you or even around you, these specialized Portkeys will transport you to my study at Hogwarts."  
  
Instantly, Hermione moved closer, examining the devices. They looked like old fashioned pocket watches. "Can't you give one of these to Harry?" she asked.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head as he handed the first box to Rupert. "These were designed specifically for Muggles and Squibs who might get in the line of fire. Wizards cannot use them, or to be specific, Wizards and Witches cannot wear them as watches. They are triggered by strong spells, which are quite common at Hogwarts. Some wizards have so strong an aura that they'd trigger these Portkeys even without using a spell."  
  
"Oh," Hermione sighed. "I suppose Harry is one of those extra-powerful wizards."  
  
"Full marks, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said.  
  
Rupert accepted the box from Dumbledore, and squinted at the watch. "So, if somebody throws a spell at me while I'm wearing this, I'll wind up in your office?" he said for confirmation.  
  
"Exactly," Dumbledore said.  
  
"That won't help me much if someone throws the Killing Curse at me," Rupert said thoughtfully.  
  
"No, it won't," Dumbledore concurred, handing the second box to Emma. "As I said, there is no such thing as a perfect protection. However, these watches have been modified so that if one of them is activated, the other will also be activated."  
  
"Saving the survivor, if there is one," Emma said, nodding. "You're assuming that we will both be in danger at the same time, then?" She opened her box and oohhed over the enameled case.   
  
Hermione moved over to look. "Those look like runes," she said of the stylized design on the case.  
  
"Yes, they are specialized Runes, Miss Granger." To Emma he said: "I've had quite some time to analyze Voldemort's method of operation. He prefers to kill the entire family in one attack, if he can. That's how he killed the Bones and the Prewitts. It is also how he tried to kill the Potters."  
  
"What about the people around us?" Rupert asked. "These Portkeys won't offer them any protection, will they?"  
  
"Not directly," Dumbledore replied. "They will, however, attract the attention of the Ministry's Aurors, not to mention other interested parties. Help will arrive quickly, I assure you. However, it's not likely that Voldemort will attack a large group. He is convinced that only disaster will come of letting Muggles know of our existence, so he tends to be even more cautious about letting his work be seen by outsiders. The larger the group of victims, the greater the danger of witnesses surviving with their memories intact."  
  
"What about a small group, such as when my brother comes to dinner?" asked Emma.  
  
"That is a stronger possibility," Dumbledore admitted. "Is your brother aware of Hermione's talents?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Emma said. "Daniel is quite interested in magic. In fact, he is an amateur stage magician."  
  
"When he's not blowing up things," Rupert added. At Dumbledore's inquiring look, he added. "My brother-in-law is in demolitions. His specialty is destroying buildings in such a way as to not damage any of the surrounding buildings… imploding, they call it."  
  
"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured. "I can give him one of these Portkeys, if you like. In fact, I'll insist on it. I would very much like to meet Daniel…?"  
  
"Harris," Emma supplied.  
  
"Are there any other family members who are aware of Hermione's gifts?"  
  
"My parents, who live in Australia, are aware that Hermione has 'special powers,' Rupert said. "It would have been rather difficult to conceal them, as they had some interesting experiences when they babysat for her when she was a tot."  
  
"Fortunately, my mother-in-law decided she rather liked the blue and green hair," Emma said. "She thought it was more interesting than the salt and pepper it had been naturally. She tells us she's always getting inquiries as to the process."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore was not successful at hiding his smile.  
  
"We've told them that Hermione's going to a school for 'specially gifted' children. They are not aware that there's a whole Wizarding culture lurking about," Rupert said. "They think it's something like you read about in comic books." He looked at Hermione. "Wizards have comic books, don't they?"  
  
"Indeed, we do," Dumbledore said. "I've always been fond of The Adventures of Orlando and the Hippogriff, myself." He went back to the more serious topic. "I expect that the elder Grangers wouldn't be in much danger, but I can send them a means of contacting help, and some of the special watches, if you like."  
  
"I think that would be a good idea," Emma said.  
  
"There is one more defense that's being worked on now," Dumbledore said. "Percy Weasley has suggested a way of creating some ephemeral guardians. If his suggestion works out, I'll add them to your defense system."  
  
"Ephemeral guardians?" Emma asked.  
  
"Ephemerals are magical creatures that only live for a few hours, or a few days," Hermione explained. "Ginny Weasley was telling me about Wizarding dust bunnies in her last letter. She thought that I might be interested in them."  
  
"They're actually bunnies?" Rupert asked, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.  
  
"Yes, and you can't have any," Hermione said firmly.  
  
"You're no fun anymore," Rupert sulked.  
  
"Thank you," Hermione said.   
  
"I'll keep you informed about our progress in creating these guardians. Percy believes they'll be useful in guarding dwellings."  
  
"He seems to be quite a clever young man," Rupert said.  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "You've heard of him, then?"  
  
"Of course," Hermione said. "He was head boy in my third year. I've spoken about him many times." She cocked her head. "Would his sudden interest in creating protective guardians have anything to do with inviting Harry to stay at the Weasleys?"  
  
"It would. The entire family is quite eager to have Harry living at the Burrow full time, at least until he's of age."  
  
"I like them," Rupert murmured as he studied his new watch. "They were nice when we met in Diagon Alley and I like how they treat children… even if they do have a deplorable attitude towards sugar." He gave Dumbledore a sideways look.  
  
Dumbledore just grinned at him.  
  
"I'll get to work on the warding charms right away," Dumbledore said. "Do any of you have any further questions?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said. "Do these Portkeys have a name?"  
  
The Grangers had the distinct impression that Dumbledore had to stifle a laugh. "Why yes, Miss Granger. They're called 'Watch Outs.'"  


  
###

  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers and readers!  
  
Freak: I could have sworn that Rowling's describes Wizarding photographs as being black and white. I could be wrong about this. ** Harry's comment about the dandelions meant that he was going to have to pull them out of the lawn. He hates weeding.  
  
Lil Lupin: What else could Sirius be but BARKING mad? ;-)  
  
coolone007: I love mythology. One thing (of many) that I love about Rowling is how she throws in the occasional mythology reference.   
  
Hpforever: I'm blushing! Thank you for the praise!  
  
Bob: Yes, I understand Harry's reasons for going alone. Partly because he's been alone for so long and partly, now, because he doesn't want anybody else to get hurt because of him. ** According to Voldemort, the wards that Dumbledore put around the Durlseys were too strong for his followers to get through. I think the reason Harry lived to age 11 was because of that ward, and I think it would only work with Harry's blood relatives. ** Potty training Harry? I suspect that Mrs. Figg did most of that. But, now I have this image in my mind of Vernon, all alone with two babies in diapers…  
  
Ozma: Thanks for the lovely long review! ** Glad the mood swings work for you! I think Sirius is a little embarrassed to show his affection, so he resorts to teasing. ** I had the thought about how few heroes survive to old age and it made me feel depressed until I remembered Perseus. Then I started thinking of WHY all those heroes met sticky ends. ** I'm still not sure if that was actually a picture of the Dream Team or if it was just a picture of the common room. ** Don't worry, you're plenty coherent.  
  
Punkin: I've been thinking about this chapter for months (it was originally slated to be chapter seven, by the way). I love mythology and did a lot of research to get this as accurate as I could. ** Give your roommate my regards!  
  
DaBear: Catnip in the dogfood? *chortle* Poor Sirius.  
  
Lan: Yeah, it's hard to believe this was supposed to be a one chapter wonder, isn't it?  
  
Yemming: No worries, I plan to keep writing as long as I can string coherent sentences together. Heck, I may not even stop then.  
  
MoNmOn: I'd been thinking about how depressing it was that all these great heroes died nasty deaths, but I couldn't remember how Perseus or Gilgamesh died. I still haven't found anything out about that.  
  
MoNmOn: I love Hermione and Dumbledore. I wish I'd had a friend like her and a principal like him when I was in school.  
  
Female Fred: Ron has a few surprises up his sleeve.  
  
Coventina: Glad you dropped by! I find all the characters interesting and I hope that comes across in my story.  
  
A. Lee: Yeah, I started thinking about heroes who had died untimely deaths and the list kept growing. I could have kept it up for another few pages, but I decided I'd better get on with it. ** Well, Book Five is finished, so I expect Harry has lived past his fifteenth birthday. On the other hand, if Rowling decides she doesn't want to write seven books, there's an easy out for that.  
  
Little House Girl: Thanks, with readers like you to encourage me, I'm getting a lot written!  
  
Alina: I thought Rowling said they were black and white. I could be wrong about this. Anyway, I like the idea that the Wizard photos are black and white. Gives Colin Creevy something to do after Hogwarts. (Speaking of Colin, has anybody wondered why he hero worships Harry so much? He's Muggleborn, he shouldn't have grown up with the legend of The Boy Who Lived. I understand this issue is actually going to be addressed in the next book.) ** I hadn't thought about doing a McGonagall vs Weasley chess game, maybe I can insert one into A Sirius Situation (which is going to be about Harry's Fifth year, if I can get this story done in time!) ** The trunk is coming.  
  
Chary? Thanks for the lovely long review! I think this will be around twenty chapters. (Speaking of chapters -- I'm _still waiting_ for the next chapter of "Beloved on This Earth." HINT!) I can totally see Dumbledore being a flirt. I'd love to see more of him interacting with the other students, too. ** I thought I took the idea of Wizarding photos being in black and white from the books, but now I'm not so sure. ** Thanks for the compliments on my handling of Hermione! ** I had heard of Guy Fawkes before. I just hadn't really thought about where Dumbledore's phoenix got his name. ** I am not superstitious! I am triskaidekaphobic! ** Chest? What chest? ;-) (Kidding! It will be soon.)  
  
wHIte-cHOcoLaTE: I'll miss Mr. Rogers. It won't be as beautiful in the neighborhood without him. ** Thanks! I try to take the road less traveled in my writing.  
  
Doom Song: I see you out there!  
  
Lourdes: Thanks for the emails!  
  
  



	15. Brace Yourselves

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium   
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  
Chapter 15: Brace Yourselves  
Rated PG for Sirius language  
Welcome to the world, David Gordon Rowling Murray!

(Sorry for the long delay. I hope you have a nice chunk of time right now, because this puppy is approximately the size of _three_ regular chapters. No foolin' and _NO CLIFFHANGERS_, Lan!)

Grangers: Be Prepared:  
One of the most fascinating parts of watching the wards being put up was the change that came over Professor Dumbledore. Inside the house, he'd been his usual Merlin-esque self. Outside, he became a rather shabby, but friendly looking fellow dressed in coveralls.   
  
A yellow van with a picture of a giant white bee was sitting in front of the Grangers' house. On the side of it was a sign: "White Bumblebee Exterminators."  
  
"Why White Bumblebee?"  
  
"That's my name, in modern English," Dumbledore said. "Albus is from the Latin for 'white' and Dumbledore is the old English word for 'bumblebee.'  
  
"Nice van," Rupert said. "I didn't know that wizards drove."  
  
"You're forgetting the infamous flying Ford Anglia," Emma said with amusement. "Is it still roaming around in the Forbidden Forest?"  
  
"That's flying, not driving," Rupert said with dignity.  
  
Emma rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"To the best of my knowledge, the Weasley's Ford Anglia is still out there," Dumbledore quickly put in to head off an argument. He wondered if this was how Harry felt with Ron and Hermione. "I bought this vehicle at an estate sale. It is less conspicuous and considerably more comfortable than riding around on a broomstick. Plus, pest control provides an excellent excuse for wandering around in your yard, should any of your neighbors prove to be the nosy type."  
  
"Ah, of course," Rupert said. "What if our neighbors want pest inspections, too?"  
  
"Then they shall get them," Dumbledore said seriously. "In fact, they will _all_ be getting a measure of protection whether they ask for it or not, especially against rats."  
  
To Rupert and Emma, it looked like Dumbledore was working with a gizmo with a lot of dials and buttons. To Hermione, Dumbledore was working with his wand and a phoenix feather.  
  
When they got back inside, Emma said: "Would anybody like more tea or soda? Oh, Professor Dumbledore, have you ever tried a root beer float?"  
  
"Please, Albus will be fine," Dumbledore insisted. "No, I have never had a root beer float. Tell me, how do you float root beer?"  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, Moppet, we're having a sugar fest today," Rupert said.  
  
"DAD! Don't call me that!" Hermione's face went the color of cherry soda.  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "I've heard worse terms," he said. "I confess, my own parents had a rather embarrassing nickname for me when I was younger."  
  
"Really? What was it?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I'll never tell," Dumbledore said. "As I said, it was embarrassing."  
  
"You won't tell Ron and Harry, will you?" Hermione asked anxiously.  
  
Dumbledore grinned mischievously. "I'm afraid that old man such as myself may occasionally let something slip, Miss Granger."  
  
"I'm such toast," Hermione moaned, burying her face in her hands. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'boys are prats.'  
  
"Now, for those root beer floats," Emma said. "I was introduced to these when I was visiting the States. They're very simple, just put a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream into a glass and cover with root beer."  
  
The adults trooped into the kitchen for a quick demonstration.   
  
Hermione uncovered her face and followed. Under her breath, she muttered, "I can't believe they're serving so much sugar today. They've been holding out on me!"  
  
"Speaking of _holding out_, would you care to elaborate on how your teeth were 'accidentally' shrunk sometime during the last school year? Even though we _specifically_ said that we didn't want you to alter your appearance by magic?" Rupert replied sotto voce.  
  
Hermione shut up.   
  
If Dumbledore heard the exchange, he gave no sign of it.  
  
Hermione accepted a root beer float, even though she didn't particularly like them. If her parents were going to relax their long standing anti-sugar rules, Hermione wasn't going to do anything to discourage them.  
  
"Delicious," Dumbledore proclaimed of the root beer float. "I'll have to introduce our kitchen help to these." He was careful not to say 'elves', lest Hermione be offended.  
  
As they sipped on their floats, Dumbledore said, "Do you have any questions about the protections?"  
  
"Won't the wards trigger the Watch Outs?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No, I've set these wards to work with the Watch Outs," Dumbledore said. "If the wards are breached, your watch will give you a warning."  
  
"How? Will it buzz or something?" Emma asked.  
  
"They'll yell, "WATCH OUT!" very loudly." Dumbledore appeared uncharacteristically uncertain. "I suppose that will be rather difficult to explain to any Muggle onlooker."  
  
"Not really," Rupert said cheerfully. "Watches do all sorts of unreasonable things nowadays. We'll simply tell anyone who hears that it's the latest in alarm watches."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, good, that relieves my mind on that score."  
  
Emma had another concern. "What about Hermione?" she said. "Certainly she can't use a Watch Out, can she? And if she has another episode like the one with the owl getting tangled in her hair, we could wind up taking an unscheduled trip." She managed a grin. "Not that I have any objects to the destination. I'd love to see Hogwarts and a trip to the headmaster's office would be a new experience for me."  
  
"I haven't been there, either," Hermione said, looking at Dumbledore a bit reproachfully.  
  
"My apologies, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "If I had known you craved being in trouble, I'd have arranged a tête-à-tête."  
  
Hermione sighed. "I don't _crave_ to be in trouble, I just can't seem to avoid it." She heaved an especially dramatic sigh. "And I used to be so rule-abiding before I got mixed up with _certain boys_ who shall remain nameless but whose initials are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."  
  
The adults chuckled.  
  
"To get back to your question, Emma, I'm afraid that the Watch Outs won't help you much while your daughter is in residence. They are only a temporary measure for this summer. By next year I hope to have a better plan in action. As I said before, Percy Weasley has an idea that has a lot of potential." Dumbledore smiled at Hermione. "Arthur has also arranged for your daughter and his daughter to have provisional licenses while they travel. They will be permitted to use magic in case of emergency."  
  
"I expect getting attacked should qualify," Rupert said quietly.  
  
"Yes, it would. I will say, Rupert, I would not want to be among the attackers. Your daughter isn't fully qualified, but she is quite formidable."  
  
Hermione blushed and changed the subject. "Headmaster? If we run into any strong magic on our trip to Bulgaria, Mum could still wind up in your office. I might even wind up in there with her. That could prove rather embarrassing."  
  
"How would you wind up in Dumbledore's office?" Emma asked.  
  
"If I'm touching you when the Portkey is activated, I'll go with you," Hermione said.  
  
"I'll remember that, if I should need to make a quick getaway," Emma said. "It could prove very useful. Albus, I do hope your staff is used to unusual interruptions."  
  
"Quite frankly, Emma, people appearing out of thin air hardly qualifies as an 'unusual interruption' at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "And, I assure you, you are welcome in my office at any time. However, there is a way to avoid accidental trips. That is to deactivate the Watch Outs. In fact, they are deactivated now."  
  
The Grangers made wry faces.   
  
"That rather defeats the purpose of having them," Hermione said. "They will only be useful if we see that trouble is going in time to activate them."  
  
"That, unfortunately, is the true of a lot of defenses," Dumbledore said. "Any good defense requires…"  
  
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" bellowed Hermione.  
  
Her parents jumped.  
  
"Alastor would be so proud of you," Dumbledore smiled. "I have some Pocket Sneakoscopes and some Hand Foe Mirrors for you and your mother and Miss Ginny Weasley, who I understand is going with you."  
  
"Really? And how did you hear about that?" Rupert asked slyly.  
  
Dumbledore grinned. It wasn't often somebody hands you a straight line like that and Rupert obviously knew what was coming. "A little bird told me," Dumbledore said.  
  
Emma and Hermione groaned.  
  
"Speaking of little owls, and speaking of Pigwidgeon getting tangled in my hair," Hermione said suddenly. "Something has been bothering me for a while, but I keep getting distracted before I can put my finger on it. When we spoke on the phone, Harry said that Pigwidgeon rammed into him and knocked him out."  
  
"Was Pigwidgeon hurt?"  
  
"No, and that's what's been bothering me," Hermione said. "Pigwidgeon is too light to just knock Harry out. There must be another reason why he passed out."  
  
"Do you think something else hit him?" Dumbledore asked. "And he just blamed Pigwidgeon because the owl was there when he woke up?"  
  
Hermione blinked. "I hadn't thought about that," she admitted. "I thought maybe he was sick or something. He said that he had white streaks in his hair." She looked anxious. "I was looking in my copy of 'Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions' and both fainting and white hair could be the sign of any number of illnesses."  
  
Dumbledore looked grave. "Yes, you have a point, Miss Granger," he said. "Molly Weasley is also concerned about his health. Harry will be staying at the Burrow for most of August. Molly will arrange for him to have a complete checkup while he's staying with them."  
  
"Wonderful, thank you." She felt relieved, but really, she told herself, she should have known that Dumbledore would be three steps ahead of her.   
  
"Good, I'm sure we'll all feel a lot better once Harry is at the Weasleys," Rupert said.  
  
"I think I can set your mind at ease on another score," Dumbledore added. "Arthur Weasley was a bit concerned about his daughter traveling at this time. I believe that he's made arrangements to ensure her protection." He looked over his half-moon glasses. "I expect Miss Weasley's protector will be looking after Emma and Hermione as well."  
  
"A protector?" Emma asked. "So, Ginny's father is sending a fully qualified wizard… or witch… to Bulgaria with us?"  
  
"Yes, he is."  
  
"How did he manage to arrange that?" Rupert asked. This time _inadvertently_ handing Dumbledore a straight line.  
  
Dumbledore took it anyway and said blandly, "Magic."   
  
  
The Burrow's Kitchen: Gack Attack:  
Ginny's shriek startled the family ghoul, not to mention the rest of the family. "Mum! Dad! Can I go? Can I? Please?" She charged into the kitchen where her parents were standing near the sink. "Hermione's invited me to go to Bulgaria with her!" she added, suddenly realizing her parents hadn't heard that news yet.  
  
Her parents exchanged worried looks and Ginny's euphoria faded. They didn't look happy about the trip. Maybe they were just tired, she hoped. They did _look_ tired, she told herself, especially her Mum.  
  
"Well, Ginny," Arthur said hesitantly.  
  
Ginny's face fell.  
  
"It's a generous offer, of course," Molly hastened to say. "And it's a wonderful opportunity for you. The trouble is, Mrs. Granger is a Muggle and neither you nor Hermione are fully qualified."  
  
Ginny felt her throat begin to tighten.   
  
"Easy, Punkin," Arthur said, coming over to put his arm around his daughter. "We're not saying you can't go. We'd just feel better if a fully qualified wizard went with you. It just so happens we know one who is going to Bulgaria, and who happens to have a reservation for the same Overseas Portkey as the Grangers."  
  
Arthur nodded at the table and Ginny finally noticed the man sitting there with a huge grin on his freckled face.  
  
"CHARLIE!" Ginny shrieked. She flung her arms around her second oldest brother's neck.  
  
"_Gack_!"  
  
"_Charlie_! You are the _best_ brother _ever_!"  
  
"_Gack_!"  
  
Ginny let out another shriek. "What am I going to wear? I can't go to Bulgaria looking like a beggar!"  
  
Charlie winced. Ginny's mouth had been too close to his ear during that last shriek.  
  
"Well, your new dress robes would look good, and you'd get more use out of them," Molly said thoughtfully. "We could alter your old dress robes, too." She tapped her lower lip. "Oh, my _trousseau_! It's in the attic."  
  
Ginny released Charlie and hugged her mother. For good measure, she hugged her father. She also hugged Errol, Hermes and Pixie.  
  
"Your what?" Charlie asked, rubbing his throat.  
  
Molly gave him a stern look. "If you'd find yourself a nice girl and settle down, you'd know what a _trousseau _was. It's a bride's possessions. In this case, the clothes I wore on my honeymoon. They're very nice robes and I never really got the chance to wear them much."  
  
"Why no…ow!" Charlie interrupted his own question when Ginny accidentally whacked him in the head with her elbow as she danced around the room with Pixie.  
  
"What happened to the best brother ever?" Charlie demanded, rubbing his head.  
  
"Ginny! It's no secret that I became pregnant with Bill right away," Molly said, half exasperated, half amused. "I never did slim down enough to fit back into those robes," Molly added wistfully. "There was the cutest sky blue one with daisies on the hems. I've been meaning to give you those robes as soon as you were tall enough to fit into them. Now seems to be an excellent time."  
  
"Robes that old would be bit out of style, wouldn't they?" Charlie asked. He ducked as his father swatted at him with a napkin.  
  
"We're not _that_ old!" Arthur protested.  
  
"Arthur! You're old enough to behave better than that!" Molly exclaimed.   
  
"Yes, dear," Arthur said with mock meekness.  
  
Molly shook her head. "Really, Charlie, classically styled robes never go out of fashion," she added, just a bit worriedly. She walked over to Ginny and brushed her daughter's hair out of her eyes.   
  
Pixie took advantage of the mother-daughter moment to escape.  
  
Arthur took advantage of the mother-daughter moment to provoke Charlie's napkin into attacking.  
  
"I'll check them out to see," Ginny said. She was facing the table, but said nothing about Charlie using his butter knife to stab a napkin that was trying to eat his hand.  
  
"They're in the brown trunk against the wall," Molly said, rather unhelpfully.  
  
By the time Molly had turned around, the napkin had been thoroughly defeated and Arthur was on his feet and out of reach of immediate retaliation from Charlie.  
  
"Well, dear, shall we have our tea in the sitting room?" he asked grandly.  
  
Molly giggled and her husband waved his wand at the sink. The enchanted the tea set began to follow them. She took Arthur's offered arm and strolled into the next room with him, unaware of the fact that Charlie was now being attacked by her damp dish rag.  
  
  
The Burrow's Stairway: Gack Attack 2:  
Ginny barreled up the stairs and found Ron looking out of his bedroom door. She threw her arms around his neck and half strangled him.   
  
"_Gack_!"  
  
"Ron! You are the _best_ brother ever!"  
  
"_Gack_!"  
  
"I just got Hermione's invitation! She said you suggested that she invite me!"  
  
"_Gack_!"  
  
"I'm going to BULGARIA! Oh, this is going to be brilliant! Me and Hermione on the loose in Bulgaria! Think of the museums! Think of the restaurants! Think of the shops!"  
  
"_Gack_!"  
  
"I love you! You're the _best_ brother ever!" She kissed him on both cheeks and continued her charge up to the attic.  
  
"Gack?" Ron said. He rubbed his sore throat and stared after his lunatic sister. He went down to the kitchen.  
  
There was something about Ron's expression that caught his parents' attention and they abandoned their tea to follow him into the kitchen. The teapot was too busy flirting with the creamer to notice that they'd been abandoned.  
  
"I hear I've already lost my 'best brother' title," Charlie joked. He rubbed his throat in sympathy.  
  
Ron stopped rubbing his throat and eyed his brother suspiciously. "Hi, Charlie," he said evenly. "You're all wet."  
  
"Great to see you, too!" Charlie said, rather perplexed at Ron's lack of enthusiasm. He finished drying his face with a tame napkin and studied his youngest brother curiously.  
  
"Going to Bulgaria, are you?" Ron asked in neutral tones.  
  
"Well, Bulgaria is next door to Rumania, I have a lot of business there," Charlie said, rather defensively.  
  
"So why come through England? Isn't this a _bit_ out of your way?" Ron's tone was growing ironic.  
  
Molly was suddenly very interested in cleaning the sink.  
  
"Hey, I had to stop by and see my favorite ickle baby brother, didn't I?"  
  
Ron didn't respond to the jab. In fact, he had his 'chess face' on. The one that usually meant he was five or six moves ahead of you. "And then go on to Bulgaria via public transportation rather than under your own steam or your work related Floo network?"  
  
Charlie grinned. "_Sometimes_ public transportation is handier."  
  
The sink must have been exceptionally dirty, because Arthur suddenly felt the need to help his wife with the chore.   
  
"Even when you have to make reservations _weeks_ in advance?" Ron was definitely ironic now.   
  
"That just makes things more interesting," Arthur said cheerfully to the sink.  
  
Molly giggled.  
  
"And you just _happened_ to have reservations to go to the _same_ place Hermione and her parents are going, on the _same_ day and the _same_ time?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"_Amazing_ how life works sometimes, isn't it?" Charlie replied.  
  
Ron eyed Charlie severely for a few minutes before saying: "So, how does Bill like Little Whinging, Surrey?"  
  
Charlie laughed. "Dumbledore has somebody else watching Harry."  
  
"Ginny was right the first time," Ron said abruptly. "_You_ are the best brother in the world."  
  
"Awww…" Molly and Arthur said with one breath. "How sweet!"  
  
"MUM! DAD! I am _NOT_ sweet! I just appreciate Charlie going along to protect Hermione and her parents." Ron paused again. "I'm not going to hug you, though," he told Charlie. "You have soap scum in your hair."  
  
Ron turned on his heel and left the kitchen.  
  
"Gack," Charlie said, running his fingers through his hair.  
  
  
Mrs. Figg's: Cat Attack:  
Harry had a story all prepared, but he didn't see the Dursleys. He snuck back into his attic, grabbed a change of clothes. Then he packed his book bag with Nicely the Animagus' Survival Guide, his Transfiguration textbook and his half-finished Transfiguration essay. He grabbed a few more necessities before he slipped back down the stairs. He heard the Dursleys coming in the front door as he escaped.  
  
"I'm so proud of you," Sirius said when Harry returned with his prizes. He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.  
  
"Are you related to the Weasley twins?" Harry asked.  
  
"Why? Are they fun-loving and devilishly handsome?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Fun-loving and devilish, yes," Harry replied, putting his bag down next to Mrs. Figg's kitchen table. "Don't expect me to touch that handsome bit."   
  
"Don't you think your old godfather is handsome?" Sirius teased.  
  
"Well, you do look better than you did the first time I met you," Harry equivocated. He pulled his Transfiguration essay out. "Will you help me with my essay? Transfiguration is one of your specialties, isn't it?" He started stacking his books on the table. The gesture reminded him of Hermione, for obvious reasons.  
  
Sirius laughed. "A three day old corpse looks better than I did when we first met," he said. "You'll have to do better than _that_ if you want to flatter me into helping you."  
  
"You looked better than Snape did," Harry said, opening Nicely.  
  
"I said you wanted to flatter me, not damn me with faint praise," Sirius said haughtily.  
  
Harry looked at him evenly, then his eyebrow quirked. "Well, I've been told that _some_ women _swoon_ over really handsome men. I know for a _fact_ that _lots_ of people faint dead away when they see you!"  
  
Mrs. Figg laughed, causing both Harry and Sirius to jump.   
  
"He got you that time, Black," she said. "You'd better help him before he comes up with something worse."  
  
Sirius wrinkled his nose. "You think I can't win a war of wits against a fifteen year old boy?"  
  
"You never won against James," Mrs. Figg replied.  
  
"Yes I did," Sirius replied huffily. "July 16, 1976." He turned back to Harry before Mrs. Figg could reply. "So, let me see what you've got so far."  
  
Mrs. Figg shook her head and left them with a plate of ham sandwiches and a bowl of apples.  
  
Sirius was a surprisingly patient teacher and Nicely was helpful in an unexpected way. When Nicely wasn't being "The Animagus Survival Guide", she styled herself as: "The _Transfiguration_ Survival Guide."   
  
A casual reader would find a compendium of Transfiguration spells. Each spell was broken down into its constituent parts to aid in understanding the theory, plus each spell had illustrations of the proper wand movement and a complete history of how it was created.  
  
"Hermione will love you, Nicely," Harry said.  
  
:_ You think_? : Nicely asked.  
  
"Definitely. She loves knowing all the background details. Speaking of background, just out of interest, where do you keep your brains?"  
  
Sirius laughed. "It's in a pensieve in Remus' pantry. I'm glad to see that somebody warned you about sentient items," he said.  
  
"Mr. Weasley did," Harry said.  
  
"I like him," Sirius said. "Or at least I will, once I actually meet him."  
  
"I like the whole family," Harry said. "I don't know where I'd be without them."  
  
"So, what about the Weasley girl? Jenny?  
  
"Ginny," Harry huffed. "I've _already_ told you about her."  
  
"So? I want to know more about my future goddaughter-in-law."  
  
"I'll let you know when I learn something," Harry replied noncommittally. "So, how do I go about choosing my Animagus form?"  
  
Sirius grinned at the change of subject. He wolfed down half a sandwich without tasting it and said, rather indistinctly, "You don't choose your form, your form chooses you. Flip to Chapter One and ask Nicely."  
  
"Nicely, will you please show me what my Animagus form will be?"  
  
:_ Such a polite boy, of course I'll help_. :  
  
While Harry was engrossed in that process, Sirius left to find Mrs. Figg.   
  
"So, what did Dumbledore say?" he demanded when he found her tossing clothes into a metal box with a door in front.  
  
"Well, the white hairs _could_ be a sign of _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhaging."  
  
"I know that! That's why I'm here! Dumbledore warned me that Harry might be getting sick! He's way too thin for my tastes. Poor kid is wasting away under the not-so-tender care of those wretched Dursleys."  
  
"But his appetite seems to be fine," Mrs. Figg added some white powder into the box.  
  
"I think being around me stimulates his appetite," Sirius said absently as Mrs. Figg's actions started to distract him.  
  
"Amazing," Mrs. Figg muttered. "Most people have the opposite reaction."  
  
"You are not being helpful!" snapped Sirius.  
  
"Well, he hasn't thrown up, complained about being in pain, or mentioned any nightmares within my hearing."  
  
"He wouldn't complain," Sirius said. "And he wouldn't mention any nightmares, unless they were about Voldemort. He keeps too much to himself."  
  
"I know that," Mrs. Figg replied. "Blame _that_ on the Dursleys and the Evans. On top of not being brought up properly, Potter obviously inherited Lily's stoicism. James could be a big crybaby sometimes."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Hay is for horses," Mrs. Figg continued. "Calm down, aside from the white hairs, Harry hasn't shown any signs of being sick. Nor has he shown signs of being in pain aside from the occasional twinge from the bruises he got when some_ rambunctious idiot_ dragged him across the Dursleys' yard."  
  
"Air-uh-bell-UH!"  
  
"Seer-ee-US! Stop fussing. I don't see that he's in any immediate danger. Dumbledore will have Harry at the Weasleys' before his birthday. As soon as he gets there, Molly will drag him to St. Mungo's for a proper checkup. She's as bad as you are. The more that poor girl reads up on that hemorrhage, the more alarmed she gets. Now _she's_ having nightmares!"  
  
"She is not a girl, she is a grand lady," Sirius huffed.  
  
"So defensive over somebody you met for all of, what, ten minutes?" Mrs. Figg inquired archly. She shut the door, twisted a dial and the box began to shudder and make churning noises.  
  
"She loves Harry; you bet I'll defend her." Sirius watched Mrs. Figg's actions with a frown. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" he demanded. He peeked in the glass door. Inside he could see clothing being whirled around in a froth of soap bubbles.  
  
"_Bloody brilliant_! Arabella, when did you invent a self-stirring cauldron?!" he exclaimed.  
  
"It's called a washing machine," Mrs. Figg said. "It's a Muggle thing. It runs on electricity."  
  
"Figure out how to run it on magic and claim it for yourself! You'll go down in history!"  
  
"Black," Mrs. Figg said crossly. "They already _have_ self-stirring cauldrons."  
  
Sirius looked surprised. "They do? Since when?"  
  
Mrs. Figg opened her mouth, but remembered that Sirius had missed twelve years or so of Wizarding progress. "Never mind," she said more gently. "Go play with your godson. There's some Muggle cake mix in the cupboard, see what kind of mess you and Potter can make with that." She was reasonably sure that the boys would be more interested in _eating_ chocolate cake than using it to destroy her kitchen, so she continued with her chores.  
  
Sirius headed back to the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "They have self-stirring cauldrons? Why doesn't anybody _tell_ me these things?" He looked around the kitchen there was nothing in sight but a mass of furry bodies. There were cats on the table finishing off the sandwiches. There were cats of the floor chasing stray apples and there was a cat on each of the kitchen chairs.   
  
"Harry?"   
  
No response, aside from a chorus of cat-calls.  
  
Sirius looked in the bathroom, and then did a quick search of the house. "Harry? Harry!" He went into the living room. There was still no sign of Harry. He returned to the kitchen. He turned into Padfoot and sniffed around, but Harry's scent didn't seem to lead anywhere. He transfigured back so he could speak.  
  
"Nicely, please tell me, did Harry say where he was going?"  
  
:_ No_:  
  
A disquieting thought struck Sirius. "How far did you get in finding what Harry's Animagus form is going to be?"  
  
:_ Erm. Too far_? :  
  
"Nicely! Don't tell me that you _transfigured_ Harry!"  
  
:_ Would you rather figure it out for yourself, then_? :  
  
Sirius' wail was downright canine.  
  
Mrs. Figg hurried in from the kitchen. "What the devil are you going on about?" she snapped.  
  
"FIGG! Your DAMN cats have EATEN my GODSON!"  
  
  
Attic Attack:  
Ginny was so engrossed in rooting around the attic that she didn't hear the family ghoul until he shrieked in her ear.  
  
Ginny jumped and put her hand over her heart. She relaxed when she saw who it was. "Oh, what a relief, for a minute there I thought Fred or George had snuck up on me. Can you give me a hand with these?"  
  
The ghoul looked offended.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Ginny said. She took a deep breath and let out a shrill scream. "There, happy?"  
  
"Ginny? Are you all right?" Ron called up the stairs.  
  
"Yes, the ghoul startled me, is all."  
  
"Okay," Ron said.  
  
"Hold this," she handed the ghoul a pile of fabric swatches with a spindle piled precariously on top.   
  
The ghoul automatically took hold of it.  
  
"Thanks," she said. She knew that it probably would have been polite to act a little more scared, but how could she be afraid of something that acted like her brothers? "Mind that spindle, it's jinxed. Poke yourself with it and you won't have any problems with insomnia for at least a century."  
  
The ghoul shrieked.  
  
"Okay, so it probably wouldn't affect _you_ that much," Ginny said absently. She opened one trunk that turned out to hold nothing but shoes. She shook her head over some of the ugly shoes, then found a pair of sparkly silver slippers. "Oh, these are pretty!" She tried them on and they almost fit. "These will go with my new dress robes, once Mum shrinks them a bit," she said happily.   
  
She put the silver shoes in an empty box and continued rooting. The next shoe was rather puzzling. "Who would make a glass slipper?" she wondered, holding it up to the light and admiring the rainbows it created on the wall. She set it down and rooted around for the mate, but found only the one. She shrugged. "Maybe it's a candy dish?"  
  
The ghoul made a grumbling noise.  
  
The rest of the shoes proved boring, so she moved on to the next trunk. This one held a variety of brassware, including an oriental mantel lamp. "Looks like Aladdin's lamp," she said to the ghoul. "I wonder if there's a genie inside?"  
  
The ghoul rolled its eyes.  
  
She picked the lamp up and rubbed it vigorously. There was a gush of smoke, and Arabic writing appeared in the air. After a few minutes, the Arabic writing disappeared to be replaced with the English translation:  
  
'_Sorry, this is not a winning lamp. Please play again.'_  
  
Ginny sighed. "Just my luck."   
  
Ginny peeked into the remains of an old apple wood wardrobe that held nothing but a pair of boots that were obviously much too large for Ginny. One of the boots held Pixie.   
  
"Now how did _you_ get in there?" Ginny cooed. She peeked inside the wardrobe and discovered a hole large enough for a Crup to creep through. It almost looked like something had eaten its way out at some point.  
  
"Mow?" Pixie asked. She popped out of the wardrobe and disappeared into a dark corner.   
  
Ginny could hear her digging at something and assumed that she was after another dust bunny. "Now, if we could only train you to do the ironing," she muttered.  
  
The next few trunks held an interesting assortment of goods. There were linen tablecloths that came out on special occasions, Christmas and other holiday decorations, Wedding decorations, Molly's wedding robes. Ginny lifted them up and studied it wistfully. Would she find somebody to love? Was what she felt for Harry really love? Time would tell, but that was the hard part, waiting for time to make up its bloody mind. No wonder so many people tried to use Divination to cheat a little.  
  
Finally, she found the trunk that she was looking for. "Wow!" she said.   
  
The ghoul sighed ostentatiously.  
  
"Look!" Ginny held up a brown tweed robe. She wrinkled her nose. "Smells awful, but it's in great shape!" She whirled around to look in the remains of a dusty mirror that had once been part of a vanity table.   
  
The robe looked good. The advantage of her family's awful complexion was that it standard among all Weasleys. What looked good on one Weasley, even her Mum (who was only a Weasley by marriage), would look good on another.   
  
Her Mum's complexion wasn't quite as orange as her daughter's, but the brown tweed robe looked good on both witches. So did the blue broadcloth robe. Ginny also found a pair of trousers that matched the blue broadcloth robe. Plus, there was a lovely cream colored blouse that would go well with either the tweed or the blue. The clothes were a little big, but there was still time to alter them.   
  
The sky blue robe with the daisies had gone to seed, however. There was also a grey outfit, but Ginny thought it was ugly. And she didn't like the brown dress that was supposed to go with the brown tweed robes. She wasn't worried; she figured she had enough decent blouses and trousers to fill out the rest of her travel wardrobe.  
  
There weren't any cloaks in this trunk and Ginny frowned. "Oh, of course," she explained to the ghoul. "Mum got pregnant shortly after she got married. The clothes never did fit her again, but her cloak would have still been useable."  
  
The ghoul dropped its load with a clatter and disappeared with a huff.   
  
"Mow-ow!" Pixie protested. A dust covered muzzle poked out from behind some boxes.  
  
"Ginny? Are you all right?" Ron called up the stairs.   
  
"Yeah, it's just that crazy ghoul again," she bellowed back.  
  
The dust covered muzzle sneezed and disappeared.  
  
"Good! As long as it's not the twins!" Ron bellowed.  
  
Ginny grinned, but Ron had a point. The ghoul was a pest, but the twins went above and beyond the call of pest-hood.  
  
Speaking of hoods, Ginny began to look at some of the other trunks to see if there was a cloak in any of them. "Pixie, do you see any cloaks?"  
  
"Mmrow."  
  
Taking that for a no, Ginny went to the other side of the attic. She found the remains of an old suitcase and there was something inside that looked like it could be a cloak. She lifted it up to inspect it and suddenly it sprang at her and enveloped her in stifling darkness.  
  
  
Cats Up:  
"Maybe Potter stepped outside?" Mrs. Figg suggested.  
  
"ARABELLA!" Sirius paced back and forth as if trying to pick up Harry's scent while he was still in human form. "Harry wouldn't have just left!"  
  
Mrs. Arabella Figg surveyed the kitchen. A mass of larcenous cats on every flat surface wasn't an unusual sight, but there was something wrong here. She studied the scene while Sirius paced around the room. Most of the cats were occupied with eating or fighting or washing. However the green-eyed Abyssinian was watching her with an air of bewilderment.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
"Stop panicking, child," she snapped soothingly. "Harry's fine. He's right there."  
  
"What? WHERE?"  
  
"Er?" said the green-eyed Abyssinian.  
  
Mrs. Figg gestured to the cat in question. "There's an extra cat here. I have only one Abyssinian and he doesn't have green eyes.  
  
Sirius stared at the green-eyed Abyssinian in shock. The green-eyed Abyssinian stared back, equally shocked.  
  
"Harry?" Sirius managed.  
  
The cat nodded.  
  
"HARRY!"   
  
Startled, the cat leaped backwards off the chair. Harry, suddenly back in human form, fell heavily, knocking over the chair and getting his feet entangled. "Oof!"  
  
: _Oh_! _There he is_! : Nicely wrote.  
  
"Harry! Are you trying to GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!" Sirius bellowed.  
  
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Harry said. He covered his head with his arms. "I didn't mean to do it! I'm not even sure how I did it! One minute I was looking at animal pictures, the next…" his voice trailed off.  
  
"That was NOT FUNNY!" Sirius roared a few seconds before he burst out laughing. "Oh, quit, I'm not going to hex you."  
  
Harry peered up at him uncertainly and lowered his arms as he realized that Sirius' anger was partly worry and partly drama.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked. "Those Dursleys didn't make a habit of beating you did they?"

"They never wanted to touch me," Harry said. "Just don't like people yelling at me, is all."

  
Mrs. Figg laughed. "I think Potter beat _you_, Black," Mrs. Figg said. "_Twice_."  
  
"So he did," Sirius said. To Harry, he said, "You! You will _pay_ for this transgression, Potter," Sirius threatened.  
  
"I didn't change on _purpose_," Harry protested. "I was just looking at the pictures…"  
  
"Not for transfiguring yourself," Sirius interrupted. "For letting those dratted animals eat our lunch!" He hauled Harry to his two feet and set the chair back up.  
  
Harry sank back into the chair and winced. Somehow his muscles didn't want to bend the way they should.   
  
Mrs. Figg gave a bark of laughter as she whipped up another plate of sandwiches (tuna this time). "Figures you'd be worried about the food, Black. Do you _ever_ think of anything else?"  
  
"Of course I do," Sirius said. "I think about playing pranks and drinking beer and having s…"  
  
"You're not mad?" Harry asked anxiously.  
  
"No," Sirius said. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Confused," Harry said. "Why did I turn into a _red_ cat? Shouldn't I have turned into a black cat?"   
  
"You are not a red cat," Mrs. Figg corrected. "You are a ruddy Abyssinian. That's burnt-sienna with black ticking and a black tipped tail, with brick red nose leather and an underside of warm apricot."  
  
Harry wasn't sure he liked the idea of Mrs. Figg noticing the colour of his underside. But he kept that to himself. "Nose leather?" he said. "You're making that up."  
  
Mrs. Figg glared at him without pausing in her monologue. Harry wondered if she was related to Hermione. "I expect that the pads of your feet were black, but I didn't get a chance to examine them. I also noticed that you have a black mark on your forehead that would cost you points in a cat show."  
  
"A lightning bolt?" Harry guessed.  
  
Mrs. Figg shook her head. "More like a finger smudge," she said.  
  
'Voldemort's fingerprint,' was the thought that went through all of their minds, although none of them said that.  
  
Mrs. Figg cleared her throat and continued. "However, judges do like eyes that show 'depth of colour', so those pretty green eyes of yours would get extra points."  
  
'Pretty green eyes?' Harry wondered. 'Where had that come from?'  
  
Sirius nudged him. "Ooh, she's noticing your eyes! The old Potter charm is still working."  
  
Harry gave him an offended look. "I've got my Mum's eyes," he said. "So it must be the Evans' charm at work." He remembered that Aunt Petunia was an Evans, too, but decided to forget that just now.  
  
Sirius grinned.  
  
Harry ran his hand through his wild black hair and went back to his original topic before Sirius could say anything. "But why didn't I become a black cat? I mean, Sirius is a black dog."  
  
"Coincidence," Sirius said. "You father was a brown stag, but he had black hair. Peter was a grey rat, but he had fair hair. Plus Minerva McGonagall was a grey tabby _long_ before your father and I arrived at Hogwarts to give her grey hair."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"What happened?" Mrs. Figg asked. She plopped the plate of tuna sandwiches in front of the two boys as she shooed the last of the cats out of the kitchen.  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "One minute I was looking at animal pictures. Then I started feeling sleepy and the next thing I knew, Sirius was yelling at me." He frowned at Mrs. Figg. "Is that what was supposed to happen when I looked at all those cat pictures?"   
  
"Absolutely not," Mrs. Figg said firmly. "Here, have a sandwich."  
  
"Nicely?" Sirius said.  
  
: _I told him to empty his mind so I could get a sense of what animal he was going to turn into. I guess it worked a little too well._ :  
  
"Sorry," Harry said meekly.   
  
"You can stop apologizing at any time now, Potter," Mrs. Figg said dryly. "You act as if you committed a crime instead of pulling off a very difficult feat of transfiguration. Now eat something." The refilled bowl of apples was plopped in front of Harry and she shoved a sandwich into his hand.  
  
"I'm too good at emptying my mind," Harry said glumly. "I must not have much in there." He nibbled on his sandwich absently.  
  
"Enough," Sirius said. He poked Harry in the arm and bolted down another sandwich. "That kind of thinking isn't helpful."  
  
"You can't be stupid," Mrs. Figg said firmly. "If you were, you wouldn't have turned into a cat at all, much less one as intelligent as an Abyssinian."  
  
"Are Abyssinians especially intelligent, then?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Yes, and they are curious, loyal, energetic, creative, and one more thing," Mrs. Figg eyed Harry with amusement. "They have a deep-seated need to stick their noses into _everything_!"  
  
Sirius laughed and Harry sighed.  
  
"There's just one more thing, my little Marauder," Sirius said.  
  
"Will you quit with the 'little' already!" Harry asked in exasperation.  
  
"Sure," Sirius said amiably. "Do you prefer 'small' or 'ickle'?"  
  
"How about _young_ marauder and _old_ marauder?" Harry retorted.  
  
Mrs. Figg laughed.  
  
"How about we move on?" Sirius said hastily. "Since we're discussing what to call each other, anyway, we might as well discuss code names. You know the code names we original Marauders chose. We'll need something to communicate just between the two of us. I've been thinking about yours. What do you think of 'Leo'?"  
  
"Why Leo?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well, one thing, we want regular names," Sirius said. "Code names like 'Prongs' and 'Padfoot' _look_ like code names and therefore attract too much attention. Besides, I suggested 'Leo' as your actual name shortly after Lily told us you were coming."   
  
He smiled in happy reminiscence. "Well, shortly after we revived your father and after James and I finished off most of a bottle of _Vino Veritas_ brandy."  
  
"You still haven't explained why you want to call me 'Leo'," Harry said.  
  
"I figured it was appropriate. Since you were going to be born late in July or early in August, Leo was going to be your birth sign. If I was stuck with a constellation name, you could endure one, too. Plus, you were obviously destined to be put in Gryffindor."  
  
"Oh." A name inserted itself into Harry's mind.  
  
"But your Mum insisted on naming you in honor of her father. So, what do you think?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, erm, Leo's fine, I guess," Harry said.  
  
"Good," Sirius grinned. "Now, you can come up with one for me, if you like."  
  
He couldn't call Sirius _that_!  
  
"It should be something rather commonplace," Mrs. Figg added. "Nothing that would look out of the ordinary if one of "Leo's" owls got intercepted.  
  
Sirius wasn't… but he _was_. Not an abstract figure, but a comforting presence.  
  
"Go ahead, Harry," Sirius said encouragingly. "I can see you've thought of something."  
  
"Let's hear it, boy," Mrs. Figg was close to smiling. "It can't be worse than some of the things James called him."  
  
But was it appropriate?  
  
Sirius and Mrs. Figg eyed each other. "If he's hesitating this much, it's got to be a good one," Mrs. Figg said in a stage whisper. "You'll never live it down."  
  
"Can't be worse than 'Snuffles,'" Sirius said. He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. "Harry? What do you want to call me?"  
  
Before he could stop himself, Harry blurted out. "Dad!"  
  
The adults fell silent.  
  
Harry bit his lip and had to restrain himself from biting his tongue. He couldn't believe he'd actually said that. He couldn't bring himself to look at the other two. Did he sound really lame? What if Sirius got mad? What if Mrs. Figg laughed?  
  
He grew increasingly nervous as the silence lengthened. Was that disrespectful to his father's memory? Sirius wasn't his father… but he couldn't remember his parents. He would never _know_ his father the way he knew Sirius. Damn! Why did he have to be such a _baby_?  
  
Mrs. Figg broke the silence by suddenly clearing her throat. "I… I've got to get to that laundry," she muttered in a croaky voice. "It… it will catch cold if I don't get it dried out." She left hurriedly.  
  
Sirius stayed uncharacteristically silent.  
  
Harry finally worked up the nerve to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "Sirius?"  
  
"You … you really want to call me that?" Sirius said with a slight stutter.  
  
Harry nodded. "You… you don't think it's disrespectful to my father, do you?"  
  
"No," Sirius said. "James wasn't the dog in the manger type. He wouldn't have begrudged you having a father in your life."  
  
"Erm, good then. Dad it is," Harry hesitated. "Unless you don't want me to call you that?"  
  
Sirius had an expression on his face that Harry couldn't make head nor tails of. Wistful? Proud? How could somebody be both at the same time?   
  
Sirius cleared his throat. "Dad will be perfect, Leo-mine." The older Animagus beamed. "So, what about this Transfiguration essay you were talking about?"  
  
  
Ginny's Stab in the Dark:  
Ginny couldn't breathe. Her first thought was that this was the thing that must have eaten its way out of the third trunk. Her second was that she had to get help. She fell backward and rolled. The cloak was trying to wrap itself around her and prevent her from using her arms but she managed to get her left hand free.  
  
She felt around for something to use as a weapon, then a thought struck her and she rolled towards where the ghoul had dropped his load. If she could get that spindle… without putting herself to sleep for a century…  
  
She heard Pixie growling nearby, but couldn't breathe enough to tell her cat to go get help. Then something nudged against her hand. The spindle! She wrapped her hand around it and jabbed at the cloth until it suddenly slackened and she was able to sit up. She wriggled free and stood up. The cloak wasn't moving. Cautious, Ginny picked it up and flipped the cloth out. After a few minutes, she realized what it was.  
  
"_Dear Harry_," she said to herself. "_Today I was almost suffocated by a hooded red riding cloak_."  
  
  
Thinking Inside the Box:  
It was miserably hot in the attic, even with all the tiny windows open. There wasn't much air circulation. Dudley's ratty old t-shirt stuck to his skin because Harry didn't want to ruin his new clothes by sweating in them.   
  
Harry sprawled on his back on top of a pile of blankets on the floor of the attic. The camp bed was not only uncomfortable, it was unstable. He had enough troubles without breaking any bones falling out of bed. The nest of blankets wasn't too bad, though, he told himself. Since he didn't need any covers, he could pile everything underneath him as a cushion.   
  
The heat and the shabby bed weren't bothering him nearly much as his growing feeling of dread. It had only been a few hours since Sirius had left and already Harry missed him so badly that his stomach hurt. He wanted someone to talk to and wished he could just _ask_ the Dursleys if he could just call the Grangers, but he knew they'd never say 'yes.' He could send Hedwig, but that seemed so slow. Besides, she was off hunting just now, so he didn't even have her to talk to.  
  
He was going to try to stay awake until the Dursleys went to bed. Unfortunately, they were going to have a party and, from the sounds of the preparations, were planning to make a night of it. Dudley was going to spend the night with some of his friends, so the Dursleys wouldn't have to worry about their precious Duddy-kins losing any sleep. They didn't care if Harry lost sleep.  
  
Maybe Mrs. Figg would let him use her phone, if he could figure out a way to get over to her house. He bit the inside of his cheek. No, that wouldn't work. Mrs. Figg told him that she would be out of town for a few days. Apparently she had to escort 'Snuffles' at least part way to his next destination. A large dog wandering around Muggle London by itself would attract attention.  
  
"Stop being a baby," he told himself roughly. "You don't want S… Snuffles to get caught just because poor ickle Harry-kins is feeling lonely."  
  
Harry closed his eyes and fought the urge to just scream. The brief visit he'd had with Sirius somehow made his stay with the Dursleys seem all the more squalid. On top of that, now he was worried. The more Sirius had tried to reassure him, the more anxious Harry felt. He didn't think he could take it if anything happened to his godfather.  
  
He tried to think of something else, but his mind refused to leave the topic of all the atrocious things that could happen to Sirius. He could feel the beginning of a panic attack. His breathing grew harsh and his eyes burned and…  
  
Something landed on his stomach with a thump.  
  
Harry jerked to a sitting position and jerked his head aside just in time to avoid Pigwidgeon's next bounce.   
  
Pigwidgeon fluttered around Harry's head, hooting happily.   
  
"Come here, you crazy courier," Harry said. It took some doing, but he got the letter off Pigwidgeon's leg without tearing it.   
  
He recognized Ginny's writing immediately. It was much daintier than Ron's writing, but there were many similarities, especially the shape of the "r's" and "y's".  
  
Harry's worry over Sirius faded to the background and he felt a rush of gratitude towards Ginny for being able to distract him. His gratitude was quickly replaced by horror as he read her letter.  
  
"_Dear Harry_, _Today I was almost suffocated by a hooded red riding cloak_."  
_  
_Ginny had been attacked! What were the Weasleys thinking!  
_  
I came across the thing while I was poking through the attic. Don't worry, I'm fine. Really, I didn't get hurt or anything and even the doctors at St. Mungo's (Mum insisted that I be looked at) said that I was fine and could even travel."  
  
_She'd been attacked! In her own home! And the Weasleys were going to let her _travel_?  
_  
I am sorry to throw this at you so abruptly, but my whole family is reacting badly to the news and I thought you should be warned that certain of them might not react rationally to any sort of teasing or mention of Bulgaria."  
  
_Of course they weren't reacting rationally! Wait, what _was_ the rational reaction to hearing that Ginny had been attacked in her own home?  
_  
"Actually, Bulgaria is why I was back in the attic. In case you haven't heard, Hermione's father can't make the trip and, as the arrangements for three have already been paid for and the Wizarding Travel agency hates last minute cancellations, I've been invited to go along. I was looking through Mum's old stuff to see if there were any nice robes to take. I don't want to go traveling through Europe in my school uniform! I found some nice things, too. Including a really cool pair of silver slippers to go with my new dress robes. (Did I tell you about the dress robes the twins got me? They're really pretty and they don't blow up or try to strangle me or anything.)"  
  
_Well, that was one step farther than he'd asked for. Why hadn't he thought to ask for new robes for Ginny? Harry frowned. Actually, he couldn't remember anything wrong with her old ones. Not that he'd spent a lot of time looking at Ginny in her pretty white robes. He should have thought to ask the twins… but they obviously assumed he was including her. He'd have to remember to let them prank him at least one in the coming school year.  
_  
"Anyway, I was looking for a cloak, and I found one. Only this cloak turned out to be a Hunting Cloak that wizards used a long time ago to render witches unconscious so some unscrupulous wizards could carry them off into forced marriages. More recently (in Wizarding terms, more recently means any time after writing was invented) Hunting Cloaks were used to rob people. I guess I can't really say that I was almost suffocated, the things aren't supposed to kill, but it felt like it was going to kill me. But I fought back and got free. (You'd be so proud, I'm sure.)"  
  
_He was already proud of her. She sounded just like Hermione!  
_  
"Have you ever heard of Sleepy Spindles? No, I'm not changing the subject."  
  
_Like in Sleeping Beauty? Harry wondered.  
_  
"Anyway, Hermione hadn't heard of them, either. (I didn't owl her first, her parents are connected to the Floo network so I can get over there when it's time to go. And I just talked to her in the fireplace. I'm babbling, sorry.) Anyway, Sleepy Spindles are sort of the witchly answer to Hunting Cloaks. Witches used them to knock out wizards so they could be hauled off into a forced marriage. (I was explaining them to Hermione and Ron said: 'Blimey, didn't anybody ever ASK back then?' Hermione laughed. She and Ron are still talking and I'm half listening as I write.)_"  
  
No way around it. The Wizarding World was insane.  
  
The next word ('anyway') was crossed out.  
  
_" I guess I should stop saying 'anyway', it's getting annoying. I had found a Sleepy Spindle while I was looking for robes, and I stabbed the Hunting Cloak with it. The two 'render unconscious' spells canceled each other out and I was able to get free of the cloak. See? I told you that you would be proud of me."  
  
_"Good girl," Harry said aloud.  
  
_"Mum almost said I couldn't go to Bulgaria after that, but Dad said that I would probably be okay. It's not like there are a lot of Hunting Cloaks lying around in Bulgaria. Dad, the twins, Percy and Charlie are checking out the attic right now. I'm not allowed to go up there by myself until they've cleared it. Ron can't go up, either. But for once, he's not objecting to being treated like a baby. (I did say he was talking to Hermione, didn't I?)"  
  
_"You did. I wonder if telephones would work in the Burrow? Nah, somebody would have to install wires and stuff. Too expensive," Harry shook himself as he realized he was talking out loud.  
  
_"Bulgaria is going to be such fun! I know you're worried (Hermione said she talked to you), so I'm writing to tell you not to be."  
  
_Too late.  
_  
"Charlie's going with us."  
  
_That wasn't reassuring; Charlie was as crazy as Hagrid. At least when it came to dangerous creatures.  
_  
"He 'just happened' to have reservations to go to Bulgaria at the same time we do.   
  
_I knew Charlie was a nutter._  
  
Hermione says she suspects Dumbledore might have something to do with it. I could have guessed that for myself. He's such a dear."  
  
_Talk about being nutters. Why can't Dumbledore send somebody _sane_ with them? Harry closed his eyes and went through the list of sane, adult wizards that he knew. Somehow mentioning Sirius and sane in one breath didn't seem appropriate. Mr. Weasley was mostly sane, except for his fascination with Muggles. Bill went around sticking his nose into cursed tombs. Percy had a tendency to obsess over details, like cauldron bottoms and curfews. The twins were neither adults nor sane. Remus Lupin was sane… no, wait, he liked to hang around Sirius. Scratch him off, too. Of course, there was always Dumbledore himself… the man who hired werewolves and Death Eaters. Having eliminated all the adult wizards he knew well, Harry went back to his letter.  
  
_"To further set your mind at ease, I'm taking the protector that you, clever boy, so generously gave me. Pixie is part Kneazle! We found that out because she saved me by pushing the Sleepy Spindle into my hand while I was fighting the Hunting Cloak. Expect masses of knitted goods next year. Mum thinks you're the greatest (non-redheaded) wizard in living memory. Percy wondered about Dumbledore, but Ron says he used to have red hair, so Percy shut up. And I'm babbling again. Sorry. Hope you're bored enough to read this."  
  
_I don't need to be bored to read your letters.  
  
_"Thank you for the cat, by the way. I love Pixie even when she isn't saving my life. I wish I could do something spectacular to pay you back. Unfortunately, the only thing spectacular about me is my hair."  
  
_God bless Mrs. Arabella Figg!  
_  
"And, we have a few more protections. Dumbledore is giving each us Pocket Sneakoscopes and a Hand Foe Mirrors. Dad arranged for Hermione and me to have temporary licenses so we can use our wands in case of emergency this summer. The twins have turned the Sleepy Spindle into three knitting needle sized weapons. The ends are covered so they won't accidentally poke anybody, but if Hermione or Mrs. Granger or I stab somebody with them (you guessed that's why there are three of them, right?) they'll go right to sleep. I think Dumbledore will have something for you soon."  
  
"Well, I have to go finish packing. Hope everything is well with you and hope that you're at the Burrow when I get home."  
_  
Me, too!  
_  
"Love from Ginny."  
  
_It took Harry several minutes and several re-readings of the letter before he calmed down. He even smiled a little when he noticed that Ginny had picked up on Hermione's usual ending. He wondered if he should read more into it, then decided he'd better not. He was just getting to know Ginny and didn't want to complicate matters. He tapped his lower lip with the letter. "Well, let's not complicate things just yet," he said.  
  
He felt loads better. He wished he could tell Ginny that her letter had allowed him to get control over his fear for Sirius, but he couldn't tell her about Sirius. He frowned. Maybe they should tell Ginny and the twins about everything that was going on. They were bound to be right in the middle of things. They deserved forewarning.  
  
He found himself looking at his mother's trunk and made a wry face. If Ginny could stand digging around in the attic where there were things like ghouls and attack trained cloaks, he reckoned that he could deal with his mother's trunk.  
  
He knelt next to the trunk and worked it open. Then he paused to remind himself of Hermione's philosophy. It didn't matter what was in the trunk, what mattered was that it had once belonged to his Mum and could probably teach him something about her. He grinned. It would be, as Hermione would say, educational.  
  
The note was still there. Even though it had been addressed to Aunt Petunia, she hadn't taken it. Instead, she had made it clear that she considered the trunk and everything in it to be Harry's.  
  
He reread it before going farther. "_PV_, _Please store this until I get a chance to pick it up. I'll probably be there around November 5th. By the way, you don't have to worry about attending a 'Christmas bash with weirdos' this year, we won't be able to host one. I would appreciate it if you would keep some December dates free for next year. J. is already planning a 'Make It Up To Everyone Party'. -- LE."   
  
_He wondered if his parents gave many parties. The note to Aunt Petunia seemed to indicate that they had been planning a Christmas party. He'd have to ask Sirius about his parents' parties sometime. He wondered if there were party goods inside. He braced himself to find out.  
  
He took a deep breath and reached inside for the first set of tissue wrapped items, expecting nothing. The tissue paper rustled slightly as he opened the first parcel to find… a tablecloth. His mouth twitched slightly as he fingered the yellowed cloth. *Linen, I bet,* he thought. His father had left him a cloak. His mother had left him a tablecloth. Maybe it was one of those magic tablecloths that produced food on command. He smirked slightly at the thought.   
  
He shook the linen out and admired it. The hem had been embroidered with evergreen garlands and Christmas ornaments. There was a reindeer peeking out from behind one swag of embroidered greenery and Harry grinned at the sight of it.  
  
He folded up the tablecloth, set it aside and reached in again. Maybe he'd find something really thrilling in there… like _napkins_! He laughed when the next bundle turned out to be matching napkins. Well, even if he didn't find any hidden treasure from his mother, at least he'd been able to share a laugh with her.  
  
Under the table linens were two sets of bed linens. No, these didn't feel like the tablecloth, so these couldn't be linen. There was a set of white sheets embroidered with red roses, which smelled faintly like roses. The second set was pale green and was embroidered with pine branches. Harry held the green top sheet up to his nose and breathed deeply. It smelled like Christmas trees.   
  
He shook out the green top sheet. It was bigger than any bed he'd ever seen. And he still wasn't sure about the material; he thought it could be silk or maybe satin. He felt the white sheet again. The two sets were different, that much he could tell. The rose sheets were thin and, well, silky. The green sheets were heavy and glossy. He wondered how you could sleep on the green sheets. He'd be afraid that he'd squirt out from between such slick sheets like a seed squirting from an especially juicy tomato.  
  
Aunt Petunia might know what the sheets were made of; girls seemed to know about things like that. However, Harry wasn't about to show any of his Mum's things to his aunt. He doubted that Aunt Petunia would want to touch anything that his parents had owned, but he didn't want to risk it. The thought of his aunt and uncle sleeping on his parent's sheets, or even… Oh, there was a disgusting image. Push _that_ thought out of mind and go on to the next object.  
  
The next object, rather objects, turned out to be pillow cases. "What a surprise. Maybe there's a duvet or something in there, too." There were four pillowcases for each set of sheets. Harry picked up one of the green pillowcases and shook it out. He might actually be able to use this.  
  
The pillowcase suddenly fluffed out into a full sized pillow, causing Harry to leap backwards like a startled cat and fluff out himself. Harry sneezed. His sense of smell was suddenly working overtime. The pillow smelled of Christmas trees and something else, some pleasant combination of spice and musk that brought up a ghost of a memory.   
  
_Strong arms held him and a pleasant tenor was singing about Snitches hanging from the Christmas tree and broomsticks flying 'round the room.  
_  
Harry picked up the scent of cooking chicken and the almost memory faded. He looked blinked a few times at a world that had suddenly ceased to be in color. He leaped to all fours and took a few uncertain steps toward the stairway, then stopped.  
  
All fours?  
  
Oh, dear. And he'd promised Sirius that he wouldn't do that! He still wasn't sure how he'd done it. For some reason, whenever he was startled, he transfigured himself. This was not a good thing. He wished he could write to Sirius about it… maybe he could send a note to Mrs. Figg via Muggle mail.   
  
At least he could send her a note once he had changed back to a human. He padded over to his pile of books and managed to paw Nicely open. "Mrow!" Harry said.  
  
: _Oh, dear, Sirius is not going to be happy with us_, : Nicely wrote.  
  
The instructions for changing back popped up immediately, but it took Harry a few minutes to remember how to read. When he was back to himself, he went back to the trunk and sat down for a few minutes to collect his wits.  
  
When he felt stable again, he picked the pillow up and held it against his face. It smelled faintly of Christmas trees, but that other scent was gone.   
  
Harry pulled another pillowcase out and grinned as it plumped up. Oh, his mother was good at making him smile!  
  
He reached for a third pillowcase, but stopped himself. He had no idea how to deflate the pillows and he didn't want to leave them behind. He thought he might be able to pack two pillows, one in this trunk and one in his school trunk, but he probably couldn't manage anything more. He wondered how he was going to get to King's Crossing this year. He hoped he'd be going from the Weasleys rather than the Dursleys. He sighed and laid back on the floor, head on one of his new pillows. He wanted out of here. He wished that Sirius or the Weasleys or even Mrs. Figg would give him a better home. He wished that the Dursleys would… no, don't wish that on anybody. You don't want them to die, no matter how awful they were.   
  
"I'm sorry, Cedric," he muttered. "I didn't really want you to die! I didn't know it was an ambush!"   
  
'Stop it, stop it,' he ordered himself. 'You can't help Cedric now. You couldn't help him then. He knows the truth of what happened. You saw him. He didn't blame you! Think of something else. Start an inventory for your next letter to Ginny.' Then he wondered why he'd thought of Ginny before Ron or Hermione or Sirius. He supposed because Ginny was a girl… not that Hermione wasn't a girl. Maybe it was because he'd just finished reading Ginny's letter. Oh, no, he didn't want his relationship with Ginny to get complicated! He barely knew her!  
  
Back to the trunk. He had enough practice with laundry to refold the sheet and set it in a neat stack on top of the other sheets. He set the still folded pillowcases on top of the sheets. Then he looked in the chest and found more cloth, black this time and it felt like wool. He fingered the material; even he could tell that it was of better quality than any piece of clothing that the Dursleys had ever owned. He'd never really thought about the quality of clothing before. He just bought regular robes at Madam Malkin's. Even his dress robes hadn't been this fine.   
  
He lifted the cloth up to see what it was, exactly, and found himself looking at a black, hooded cloak. The inside was lined with red material that felt very much like the rose colored sheets. Silk, he guessed. The green sheets were probably satin. He tried on the cloak and it dragged behind him. He sighed. Was he really that much shorter than his father? Here was another question to put to Sirius. Of course, he was only fifteen, he might still grow some more. He just hoped all his years in the closet hadn't permanently stunted his growth.  
  
The next piece of black cloth was also a cloak. The wool was the same fine black wool that the first cloak was made from. The lining was silk, but this was green. In fact, it was a very _familiar_ shade of green. He tried it on, it was a little short for him, but not too much so. His mother must have been dainty, like Ginny. Harry blinked. Why had he thought about Ginny? He supposed because Hermione never struck him as being dainty. (Not that there was anything _wrong_ with Hermione's looks, he added to himself.)  
  
Harry snuck down a flight of stairs and into the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was dusty and sweat streaked and his hair was a total disaster. He held up the cloak and saw he was right. The silk lining was _exactly_ the same shade of green as his eyes. Like he needed confirmation that this was his mother's cloak. He washed his hands and face and hurried back upstairs before Dudley came across him. (Actually, there wasn't much chance of that, it was getting close to dinner time and Dudley would be haunting the kitchen right now.)  
  
Harry sat cross-legged next to the trunk. Under the cloth items were a lot of lumpy items in there. There were stacks of newspapers, Wizarding and Muggle, going back from October 16, 1981 to July 23, 1980. Harry leafed through a few of them, but nothing caught his eye off-hand, so he stacked them next to the linens, erm, silks, whatever those sheets were made of.  
  
There was a brass tube under the newspapers. Now, that looked promising. Picked it up and examined it. There was a name plate on it. "Lily E. Evans." What a surprise, he told himself sarcastically. Well, maybe a little startling, his Mum must have owned it for a while if it had her maiden name on it. He opened it up and found a brass spyglass inside. "Cool," Harry said aloud. He pulled the spyglass out and a note fluttered out. Harry snatched the paper from the air before it could hit the floor.   
  
"_Lily, sorry about your old telescope, but Black really, really deserved that. Sorry you had to buy a new telescope. I got you this because you already have a replacement. Hope it makes it up to you. Sincerely, Berenice Sinistra._"  
  
Harry rocked back on his heels and tried to remember what Professor Sinistra's given name was. Nothing came to mind, so he made a mental note to ask Hermione in his next letter to her. She probably knew the names, life history and genealogy of all the professors, with the possible exception of Snape (who was obviously created in a mad scientist's lab out of spare parts and axel grease instead of being born to actual human parents.) He wondered if he could get the story behind this from Sirius, or maybe it would be better to try to worm it out of Professor Lupin.  
  
Harry turned the spyglass over in his hands and found it was inscribed. "_Lily from Berry. Warning, do not use this to peek into the boy's dorm_!"  
  
Eh? What a weird thing to inscribe permanently on a small telescope. How could a person use it to peek into the dormitories? He held it to his eye and looked up at the window. He spent several minutes gazing around the neighborhood before he realized that he shouldn't be able to see out the window at all, the angle was all wrong. He lowered the spyglass and grinned.  
  
Then he wheeled around and looked through the spyglass towards the entrance of the attic. Sure enough, he could see downstairs and into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was fixing a nice dinner of baked chicken, boiled potatoes and mushy peas. Next to the chicken sat the loaf of Dudley's diet bread and a tin of cheap tomato soup.  
  
Harry sighed and lowered the spyglass. "Looks like Aunt Petunia is back to normal," he said to the spyglass. "Too bad, I was _almost_ convinced that she was a human being under all that prejudice and favoritism."   
  
He turned to the trunk again, but he wasn't sure he wanted to keep investigating. He lifted up a stack of something that turned out to be envelopes the size and shape one would use for greeting cards. Considering the He flipped through them. One stack was empty, unsealed envelopes. One of the empty envelopes was addressed to 'Prof. A. Dumbledore'. Harry frowned. Why had his mother changed her mind about sending Dumbledore a card?   
  
Another stack was filled and sealed. Harry wiped his hands and thumbed through the stack. There were a lot of familiar names here: Sirius B., Remus L., Pete P. (Harry's mouth thinned at that name, but he kept looking), Albus D., (Harry grinned. His mother must have forgotten that she was on first name basis with the headmaster. That would explain why she'd discarded the first envelope.) Frank and Anne L., Harry stopped. Frank and Anne _Longbottom_? Had his parents known the Longbottoms? If they had lived, if Voldemort hadn't come along, would he and Neville have grown up together?   
  
He stared at the envelope for a long time. Then he gritted his teeth and kept flipping through the cards. There were unfamiliar names in there, too. Mara H., Russ S., Sorcha B. He wondered who they had been and if they were still alive. He wondered if he should have the letters delivered? He'd have to talk to Dumbledore about this. Dumbledore would probably even know who everybody was.  
  
He put that stack down and picked up a box. These proved to be the actual greeting cards. Harry's eyes went wide. The front of the card was a picture of his Mum, who was standing in front of a Christmas tree and holding a baby. This must have been from his first Christmas, Harry decided. Then he rolled his eyes. It had to be his first Christmas, because his parents… Don't think of that.  
  
Harry squinted and studied his five month old self and decided his Mum must have loved him very much. There was no other reason she would have defended such a hideous looking creature. Were all babies that ugly or had he been especially deformed? He sighed. He opened the card and read the inscription: "_Happy Christmas from James, Lily and Harry_."  
  
He couldn't look any more. He didn't remember his second Christmas, the one this card had been created for, but he bet he'd spent it locked in the boot cupboard. His parent, of course, hadn't had any kind of Christmas at all. He carefully repacked everything in the order that he found it… then he unpacked again to get at his mother's cloak. Ginny had inspired him to explore the trunk, she deserved a reward. She'd said she needed a cloak, didn't she?  
  
As soon as Hedwig came back, he would send it off. Wait, he'd already sent her a cat this summer, if he sent her a cloak, then she might get the wrong idea. How could he get this to her anonymously? He tapped his lower lip as he pondered. He'd send it to Mrs. Weasley and have her give it to Ginny. He'd make sure that Hedwig delivered it to Mrs. Weasley when she was alone. He was sure that Mrs. Weasley would understand why he wanted this to be an anonymous gift.  
  
Harry repacked the trunk, the unpacked it once more. He took out a Christmas card. If he didn't look at the inscription, then it wouldn't be too depressing. He had to have one for his scrapbook. Then, he repacked the trunk for the last time that night. He finished just before Aunt Petunia called him down to dinner.  
  
Dinner was as depressing as he had figured it would be. (Too bad he couldn't hand this prediction over to Trelawny, he'd get full marks for sure.) However, the thought of Ginny's face when she got that excellent cloak helped him keep his spirits up. He didn't let himself think of why that was, though.  
  
  
Cloak and Burrow:  
"Ginny! Hedwig is here!" Molly called up the stairs the next morning.  
  
"Did she bring _me_ a note?" Ron asked.  
  
"Yes, she brought notes for both of you," Molly replied.  
  
Ron and Ginny settled themselves down for eggs and bacon while they read their letters.   
  
"What does yours say?" Ron asked.  
  
"_Dear Ginny_," Ginny read, turning red. "_I'm sorry that you got attacked_."  
  
"Ah, young love is a beautiful thing," Ron asked.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "_I hope you really are fine and not just saying that_."  
  
"Potter calling the kettle black," muttered Ron.  
  
Ginny giggled. "Knows us, doesn't he?" She continued to read. "_I am sending Hedwig's cage with her. I would like you to take her to Bulgaria with you. Please owl me as soon as you get there or my hair will turn as white as Dumbledore's. You needn't bother carting the cage back. I'm planning to buy her a new cage next time I'm in Diagon Alley_."  
  
_"As I said, I've been cleaning out the Dursley's attic. I didn't find anything as spectacular or as dangerous as you did. (I guess that's a good thing, since I have to sleep up here now.) However, I found an old trunk of my Mum's. Mostly it's filled with fun things like tablecloths and sheets, but there's also a really cool spyglass that can see around corners. Should be great for watching Quidditch matches!_"  
  
"I wonder if he could use it to keep an eye out for Filch," Ron mused.  
  
"Ron!" Ginny said.   
  
"Well, what do you want me to do? Look in the girl's dorm?"  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"I wouldn't do that! I see too much of _you_, anyway!"  
  
Ginny kicked him. "Anyway, Harry says I'm more than welcome for the Kneazle cat and he hopes that I'll keep Professor Moody's Words of Wisdom in mind while I'm traveling."  
  
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" both Weasleys quoted at the top of their lungs.  
  
"He also says that I'm such a good writer that I should think of making a career out of it. So, what does your letter say?" Ginny prodded. She left out the part where Harry said that her letters were always welcome and that reading them made him feel better. There were things that she didn't feel she needed to share with anyone.  
  
Ron made a face, and then said: "You and Hermione ought to write The Great Wizarding Novel. You two could probably pull it off." Before Ginny could react to the compliment, he pulled his letter open. "_Ron, glad you had finished your essays. Now I don't have to worry about your Mum transfiguring me into a garden gnome or anything. Have fun with the Firebolt. (Like you need to be told to do that!) I really think you have a chance to make the team this year. I don't recall that any of the sixth-years are particularly interested in playing Quidditch and Seamus and Dean keep talking about becoming Beaters. I reckon they'll have a good shot at it next year. (You know, the thought of Hogwarts without the twins is rather depressing.)_"  
  
"Depressing without the twins?" chortled Ginny. "Does he mean _Fred_ and _George_?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "I always knew he was barking." Then moved his leg in order to avoid Ginny's kick.  
  
"Then he mentions the stuff he found in the attic," Ron said. He didn't read the part about 'Snuffles' giving him an early birthday party and that he'd received some really cool stuff. Not the least of which was a snake rope from Hagrid and a chocolate cake from Madam Maxime. He also didn't read the part that said: "_You'll have to wait and see the really cool present. It's along the lines of the Marauder Map, only cooler. By the way, I got the Map back, too_."  
  
"Anything else?" Ginny prompted.  
  
"Erm, yeah, Hagrid sent him a snake rope and Madam Maxime sent him some fancy chocolate cake. I guess they weren't sure they'd be able to mail it on his birthday, so they sent it early."  
  
"How nice!" Ginny said.  
  
"I wonder if that's what is in the box," Molly said, coming into the kitchen. She took a small cardboard box and inside was some squished, but delicious chocolate cake.  
  
"By the way, Ginny, a family friend sent you a cloak," Molly said.   
  
Ginny sighed. Family friends (more like family fiends!) were always sending their leftovers to them. Most of the time, the clothing was so hideous that Molly wound up using them for cleaning rags.  
  
"Don't be like that, Missy!" Molly warned. "Look before you decide!"  
  
Ginny looked.  
  
So did Ron.  
  
"Whoa!" Ron said. "Somebody had good taste!"  
  
"He said he found it in the attic and didn't want to see it wasted," Molly said as Ginny tried on the green-lined, black wool cloak. "It will be good for wearing at school, even if the lining is the wrong color."  
  
As far as Ginny was concerned, the lining was exactly the right color. But she didn't say so. Ron and her Mum were being nice about her crush on Harry, but there was no need to constantly parade it under their noses! She ran over to look at herself the best she could in the mirror over the mantel.  
  
"Now that's quality!" the mirror said approvingly.  
  
"Yes," Ginny said. "This is wonderful! I'll write a thank you note right away!"  
  
"There's no need," Molly said, smiling. "I've already told him about your undying gratitude. Now, go make sure your suitcase is packed. You're leaving for the Grangers this afternoon, remember." She shooed Ginny up the stairs.  
  
Ron finished his cake and pumpkin juice thoughtfully. It was so unlike his mother to not insist that Ginny write the thank you note herself. He wondered… but how could Harry have sent the cloak AND the birdcage with Hedwig? Could the snowy owl carry that much? Ron went up to his room to grab the Firebolt. Maybe a quick flight would clear his mind. This family had way too many secrets going on just now.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's notes for Chapter 15:

CHAPTER UPDATE!

I changed the washing machine into a front loading machine. ** I added a few names to Harry's list of 'possibly sane' wizards that I left out the first time. ** I fixed Wormtail's description to be the rat color. ** I changed the scene where Harry turns back from being a cat so it doesn't look like Sirius is totally callous.

  
Hi, Punkin! As you may have noticed, I decided that 'Punkin' was the perfect nickname for Arthur to call Ginny.  
  
Sorry for the long delay. I was trying to avoid cliffhangers, so this chapter is about three chapters long. I'm still looking at about twenty chapters total.  
  
Just so you don't need to ask: Harry put the letters in Hedwig's cage, then wrapped the cage in the cloak so she could carry everything. Molly is vastly amused at this.  
  
All the Sirius scenes in this and previous chapters were lifted from the sequel to this story – A Sirius Situation. I decided they'd fit better here. So "A Sirius Situation" will be shorter than originally planned.   
  
(July 16, 1976 was my sixteenth birthday, which I celebrated 3,000 miles or so away from home. I had Chinese food for the first time and got to be part of the restaurant's magician's show. It was cool.)  
  
Dumbledore's mother occasionally called him 'Honey Bee,' in case you were wondering about the 'embarrassing nickname.'  
  
In-jokes in the attic: The jinxed spindle is from Sleeping Beauty. The silver slippers are from the _novel_ The Wizard of Oz (as opposed to the MGM movie, which had ruby slippers). The glass slipper is from Cinderella. Even Ginny recognized the lamp from Aladdin. The apple wood wardrobe is from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Pixie in the boot is Puss In Boots. I expect you recognized the riding cloak with the red hood.  
  
Why make Harry an Abyssinian rather than a black cat? I based it on personality, rather than coloring. Here are a couple of abstracts from the "Kitten Buyer's Guide" by Carolyn Osier, as quoted at : _"Abyssinians must be one of the most intelligent animals ever created." _And _"It is a very people-oriented cat. Not a lap cat... but a cat that likes to be with people, a cat that wants to know what you are doing - that wants to help. There is probably no breed anywhere more loyal than the Aby. Once you have acquired an Aby as a companion, you will never be able to complain that no one understands you. Abys are very good at training people to do just what they want them to do."   
_  
Anyway, on to review responses:  
  
DaBear: Thanks for the review! Punning is my second favorite thing in the world to do, right after writing cliffhangers. I've noticed a lot of puns in Rowling's work. (Floo/Flue powder comes to mind.)   
  
Bob: Thanks for the review! ** Guess my memory isn't as good as I thought. I could have sworn that Wizarding photos were black and white. *shrug* Oh, well, in my AU, they are. ** Actually, there were several things I liked better in the movie. Less Dursleys for one. And 'Why couldn't it be follow the butterflies?' and 'Hermione will be out of the Hospital Wing as soon as she stops coughing up fur balls!' Also, in the Dueling Club scene: In the book, Snape insults Neville, in the movie, he insults Ron's broken wand. I really liked that better. ** Sorry, Daniel Harris is unmarried as of this writing. ** Hope you like the trunk scene!  
  
Satchel: Thanks for the review! Sorry, this story is only lightweight H/G. The serious stuff comes in "A Sirius Situation."  
  
Rhiain: Thanks for the review! Neither Hermione nor Harry can have a Watch Out, but they'll have other protections. And frankly, I would pity any idiot who attacked Hermione's parents while she was around.   
  
Lan: Thanks! I hope you appreciate all the work I put in to avoid nasty cliffhangers this time!  
  
Taself: Thanks! Glad Hermione's parents ring true. ** Sure, ask anything you want!  
  
Angelbach: Thanks for the review! I'm so glad you like the story! And thanks for telling me what part of the story you like!  
  
Shyanne: Thanks for reviewing! Yep, I love writing Weasleys, they're my favorite Wizarding family. (Especially when you include Harry and Hermione as honorary redheads!)  
  
coolone007: Thanks for reviewing my story! Harry leaves the Dursleys in the next chapter. ** I'll check out your story as soon as I get the chance.  
  
MoNmOn: Thanks!  
  
Female Fred: Thanks!  
  
Rowan: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you care enough to find out what happens next! And I'm really glad that my story line is coming across as plausible.   
  
Alla: Thanks for reviewing! Technically, this is only one chapter, but I swear it's three chapters long. ** I really hope Rowling is finished killing off Marauders. (Or if she has to kill another one, let it be Peter!) I've got my fingers crossed over Sirius. If she kills him, I may just stop reading the series! ** I put my own words into Sirius' mouth. I would want to keep Harry, too! (Heck, I want to keep Sirius!)  
  
starwest45: Thanks for the review! ** Yes, those owls are getting their workouts! Especially once they start flying from Bulgaria! ** I'm flattered that you were quoting me to your friend! And thanks for telling me which parts you liked. That really does help a writer, you know. ** I had a cat named Pixie, once. She was a very good cat and I still miss her. ** Yep, I managed to get Emma, Rupert AND Daniel in there. (As well as Richard HARRIS.)  
  
Alla: Thanks for the review! ** Glad you like my version of Dumbledore. I like him a lot. He gives people a free hand because he doesn't presume he can dictate what's best for everybody. People need to make their own decisions. ** That business with the hams is the kind of story I figured he would tell. (Especially after telling that story about the bathroom that only appeared at certain times. I wonder if Harry will find that one?)  
  
Chary: Thanks for the lovely long review! ** Yep, I'm already working on "A Sirius Situation." Some of those chapters actually appeared in this story. ** Dumbledore might very well be an expert on Muggle sweets. Don't know if he'd be familiar with root beer floats, though. (Do British people drink root beer floats?) ** Thanks for telling me the parts you particularly liked. ** When I thought of the term 'Watch Out,' I knew I had to use it! ** Yep, paid tribute to Daniel Radcliffe and Richard Harris with one mention. ** I'm updating as fast as I can! Actually, I could have posted this chapter in installments, but Lan doesn't like cliffies. ** Hope to see your next chapter soon!   
  
Punkin: Thanks for the compliments!  
  
Ozma: "The elevator stopped at chapter thirteen, and I got out but nothing was there..." Hee hee! ** You mean that the tea with the Grangers was a mixture of seriousness and Siriusness? *grin* ** Nobody's ever mentioned that Hermione saved Penelope's life. I thought it was worth bringing up. ** I figure Harry told Ron and Hermione about Dumbledore having red hair in Riddle's memory. ** I also figure that if the Grangers let Hermione stay with Harry when Sirius Black was on the loose, they weren't the kind to grab their daughter and run (no matter how attractive that option might seem.) ** Had to mention our favorite Spinx! ** I think Harry has to be very powerful to have Voldemort so worried.  
  
Eris, Queen of the Shadows: Thank you for the compliments! I am so flattered that you put me on your favorites' list! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! ** Yes, I did mean to pay homage to the actors with the names of Hermione's family. ** I'll try to update fast. I want this story finished so I'll have enough time for "A Sirius Situation." ** When love creeps up on Harry, it won't smack him with a frying pan! (A broom, maybe, but not a frying pan.)   
  
Katrina: Thanks for the review and the compliments on my Watch Outs!  
  
Tempest: Thanks for the review! Here's lots more!  
  
Me: (erm, the reviewer who signed herself or himself as 'me', not me, the writer): Thanks for the review! Yes, I do read a lot. I love books!  
  
Alina: Thanks for the review! Sorry to keep you waiting for chapter fifteen! It kept expanding on me! ** "A Sirius Situation" is the sequel to this story and it isn't posted anywhere. ** I haven't forgotten the disease or the trunk. I'm just taking my own sweet time in getting to them. ** I'm calling Viktor's brother by the Bulgarian equivalent of "Tom". ** Thanks for pointing out the spelling error!   
  
The Queen of Fire and Ice: Thanks! ** Update soon with a REAL chapter? But this is a fantasy story!! ;-)  
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse: I understand about homework! Been there, done that, got the grey hairs to prove it! ** Thanks for the lovely long review!   
Ch 8: I love the idea of paying a mirror by polishing until it shines like the sun! I'll have to steal, erm, use that idea somewhere! (It would be nice if your mirror could give you advice, wouldn't it?) ** Ginny's brother's knew she was a girl, they just hadn't realized that she had made that transition from cute ickle girl to a GIRL!  
Ch 9: Everybody picks on Errol, I figured it was time for him to get some of his own back. ** Thanks for all the compliments! Glad I could help you expand your vocabulary!   
Ch 10: I figured that Harry had to have drooled on his godfather at least once. And Sirius had to have changed diapers at least once. ** I love the idea of "Snuffles the Wonder Dog!" ** Loved your description of you enjoying the story! Peanut butter is a good thing to eat while reading Harry Potter. (I wonder if the British like peanut butter or is it an American thing?) ** Snake ropes are fun. You'll see.  
Ch 11: *Blushes at the praise* I like the image of the giggling puddle. I think that may happen to Ginny at some point! You have such great imagery in your reviews I'll have to check out your stories!  
Ch 12: I'd think Lily would have been a full Marauder. She may have gone along just to keep the boys from getting into too much trouble! Heaven forfend she let that cutie James get lead down the road to Perdition by that Black character!   
Ch 13: triskaidekaphobia.  
Ch 14: I think Fred and George admire Dumbledore. I mean, anybody who would hire a werewolf has to be aces in their book, right? ** Dumbledore has lived long enough to know not to take himself seriously. He's definitely my kind of guy. (Wonder if he has any great-grandsons wandering around.)  
  
Allison: Thank you!  
  
Crazyfriendsfan: Thanks for the kind words! ** You've seen Harry's Animagus form this chapter. ** As for your Animagus form -- I once had a dog named Abby. She was a clever beagle/terrier mix who was very protective of her family! Maybe that's what you would be.  
  
RogueAngel: Actually, I've never read any Wayside School books. (That's a book series, isn't it?) Maybe I should check them out this July. ** Thanks for the review and for the compliments!! (And thanks for reviewing Chapter 13! )  
  
Von: This story should be finished soon! Thanks for bearing with me and thanks for the lovely long review! ** I'm flattered that you added me to your favorites list! Thank you! ** I always get worried when the next chapter isn't there, myself. ** I have the same theory – If you like a person writes, you might like what a person reads. I'll check out your list as soon as I have time. (I want to finish this story, so I don't have a lot of time to read.) ** If I were a mother, Harry is the kind of boy I'd encourage my daughter to like. He's a good kid, for all his trouble-attracting qualities. On top of that, Molly would rather Ginny chase after a boy that she knows than after someone that she's never met.   
  
Harry hasn't shown any signs of romantic feelings for Ginny. I think he will, but I want it to come on him gradually. He still has to deal with his feelings for Cho. ** I'm not sure exactly how long it will be, but I'm thinking twenty actual chapters, Chapter Thirteen doesn't count as a chapter. ** Sorry, Daniel won't be showing up in this story. I couldn't fit him in. I love your ideas for a summer in the Muggle world! I think I may do a story about the summer between Harry's fifth and sixth years that would have Daniel and lots of things that you mentioned -- seaside and circuses! Way cool! ** Harry has some white streaks in his hair. I'm actually basing this on my hair because I started getting white hairs when I was sixteen. (I blame trigonometry.) If Harry had been American, the white streaks in his black hair might have meant he was going to be a skunk! Dead useful critters, skunks, offend them and you have stink spray all over you!

  
Well, this chapter certainly got plump! Hope it was worth the wait!** Chapter thirteen is missing by design, not by accident. ** THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS!  
  
Caisha: Thanks for the kind review! Hope the length of this story makes up for the length of time it took me to finish it! ** I figured that there's a reason that one of the "Old Crowd" had the same last name as Harry's former babysitter. Rowling seldom does anything for no reason. ** More Ron and some bad-tempered Ginny coming up!  
  
VenusDeOmnipotent: You want Tom? Well, I've named Viktor Krum's brother "Foma" which (as I understand it) is the Bulgarian equivalent of Tom. I never did name Hermione's grandparents, maybe they're Tom and Maggie. ;-) ** Thanks for the review and for the compliments! I'll try to get over to your site to read more.  
  
Alla: Wow! I'm flattered that you check so often! Chapter fifteen is here and sixteen will be posted soon! (Soon, soon!) (By the way, thanks for reviewing Chapter 13!)  
  
Hpforever: *Blushes* What a sweet thing to say! Thank you so much!  
  
Doom Song: Hi, hope you're enjoying the story! Sorry I had to leave so abruptly!  
  
Malach: Thanks for the e-mail! I'm glad the story works for you. I try to keep my stories close to canon and I try to think of what else Rowling might do with them. Hope the story continues to please!  
  



	16. The Best Laid Plans

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  
  
**Chapter 16: The Best Laid Plans**

Of Viktor and Visitors:  
Viktor Krum was practicing his smile. He didn't need the practice for Hermione, of course. She put a smile on his face whether he wanted it there or not. Nor did Viktor anticipate having any trouble greeting Hermione's mother. What was bothering him was the third member of the Granger party.  
  
When Viktor had invited Hermione to come visit him, he had _expected_ a chaperone to accompany her. She was only fifteen years old, after all. When it turned out that _both_ of her parents were coming, Viktor had taken that to be a good sign. When a girl gets interested in a man, it's only natural for her parents to want to meet him.  
  
Then Mr. Granger had been unable to come. That was all right, also. Hermione's father was welcome to visit at another time. Any excuse to have Hermione come was a good one. Then his parents had invited Hermione to bring a friend in Rupert Granger's place. The Portkey reservation was for three people. His parents had thought it would be a shame to lose the deposit.   
  
The first thought that entered Viktor's mind was that the guest would be Harry Potter. He hadn't said anything, but he hadn't needed to. His whole family knew that Hermione Granger was friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived. The speculation started immediately and there was nothing Viktor could do, unless he wanted to move out of his parents home.  
  
Now Hermione and her party were downstairs. His parents had met them at the Portkey terminal because Viktor had been at Quidditch practice. He'd arrived home with barely enough time to shower and change before his guests had arrived.  
  
He was bracing himself to be friendly with Potter. It should be easy, he and Potter had much in common. He _liked_ the Boy-Who-Lived, he reminded himself firmly. Viktor's smile came easier as he remembered that Potter was still a _boy_, while he was a grown man with an established career and a handsome income.   
  
Viktor? Are you ready? Your guests have arrived! his younger brother, Foma, pounded cheerfully on the door. You said the girl you're interested in had brown hair, right? You're not interested in the red-head?  
  
What are you talking about? Viktor asked irritably. He opened the bathroom door and glared.  
  
Oh, come on! urged his brother. You look perfect! Foma grabbed Viktor by the arm and hauled him downstairs.  
  
They were followed by their sisters, but Viktor gave the familiar trio no thought as he looked over at an unfamiliar trio of females.  
  
There was Hermione, smiling up at him and looking more beautiful than he remembered her. Next to her was an older woman. Mrs. Granger did not look much like her daughter (Rather, Hermione did not look much like her mother, Viktor supposed.) Mrs. Granger's hair was brown, but it lacked the vibrant energy and glorious red highlights that Hermione's had.  
  
Speaking of glorious and red, the third member of the party, Hermione's friend, had hair that put the setting sun to shame. She also had large brown eyes, delicate features and a winsome smile. Viktor could understand why his brother was interested. The girl was very pretty for somebody who wasn't Hermione.  
  
"Viktor!" Hermione said happily. She spoke in rather stilted Bulgarian. I'd like to introduce my mother, Mrs. Emma Granger, and my friend, Ginny Weasley.  
  
Viktor shook the older woman's hand first. "I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Granger," he said carefully.  
  
Thank you, Mrs. Granger said in careful Bulgarian. The pleasure is mine. She switched to English. "Your English is much better than my Bulgarian, I'm sure."  
  
"Your Bulgarian is fine," Viktor said honestly. He had heard his native tongue completely butchered before. Mrs. Granger's careful enunciation was a bit stilted, but far from the worst that he'd heard.  
  
"It's very kind of you to invite my daughter and more than kind to include my husband and me in the invitation," Mrs. Granger added with a smile. Hermione had inherited that smile and Viktor found himself liking the woman.  
  
"It is nothing," Viktor said. "I am sorry only that your husband was unable to come. I would have liked to have met him."  
  
"Rupert was disappointed that he couldn't come," Mrs. Granger said.   
  
Viktor turned towards the red-haired girl and hoped she wasn't the giggly type.  
  
"Miss Weasley? It is a pleasure to have you here."  
  
Thank you, Ginny said in passable Bulgarian. Her accent was a bit off, but Viktor suspected that his English was just as odd. Please, call me Ginny. She was forced to switch to her native tongue here. "It was very kind of your family to allow me to tag along at the last minute."  
  
"The pleasure is all ours, Ginny," Viktor said, relieved that she hadn't giggled once. And her name was blessedly easy to pronounce. "Did you encounter any problems in traveling? You were not worried traveling, just the three of you?"  
  
"No, we had no trouble," Ginny said. "We had company all of the way. One of my brothers traveled until your parents met us. Your parents asked him to stay, but Charlie had business to attend to. He's going to try to visit a little later this week."  
  
"You've met my parents," Viktor said to the three English witches. "And this is my brother, Foma, and my sisters, Katerina, Marketa, and Iulia."  
  
"We are so happy to have you with us!" Viktor's oldest sister, Katerina said.   
  
"How is it you know Hermione?" Iulia, the youngest Krum asked. "Are you in the same year as she?"  
  
"No, I'm in the year behind her," Ginny said.  
  
Her youngest brother Ron is in my year, Hermione said in stilted Bulgarian. She then switched to English. "Do you remember Ron, Viktor? He asked for your autograph just before we left Hogwarts. And you may remember seeing Ginny's mother and her oldest brother, Bill. They came to support Harry in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."  
  
Viktor vaguely remembered a tall boy with bright red hair who had been with Hermione on occasion. He also vaguely remembered the tall redhead who'd been with Potter. It seemed like Ginny had an endless supply of brothers. He felt pity for Foma, if he really intended to pay court to a girl with a small army at her disposal.  
  
Before he could say anything, Marketa interrupted. "You know Harry Potter, also?" she asked Ginny, eyes sparkling.  
  
"Oh, yes," Ginny said. "He and my brother Ron are best friends. Harry usually spends at least part of the summer with us."  
  
Smiling gleefully, even triumphantly, Viktor's sisters descended upon his guests and led the way to the guest quarters; all of them chattering away in a mixture of inexpert English and schoolgirl Bulgarian.  
  
"Get the suitcases, will you, Viktor? Foma?" Katerina asked over her shoulder.   
  
The English witches had their hands full with their animal cages and their purses. There were three owls and two cats with them, but surprisingly little luggage. In fact, they'd only brought one suitcase and one purse apiece. Foma grabbed two bags, leaving Viktor just one to carry.  
  
"We have to get our owls sent off right away to let everyone know we arrived safely," Hermione said.  
  
"I am guessing that one owl for each your father and Ginny's parents," Iulia said. "But who is the third owl for?"  
  
"Harry," Hermione said.   
  
It was a good thing that Viktor was at the end of the parade; no one could see his lip curl at the sound of Potter's name.  
  
"I promised that I'd owl him as soon as I got to Bulgaria," Hermione went on. "He was even nice enough to lend me his snowy owl for the job. This is Hedwig. Blodwen, my parents' owl, is the tawny and the wee owl is Pigwidgeon."  
  
"Pigwidgeon belongs to my brother Ron," Ginny added.  
  
At least Potter wasn't _here_. There was no way The-Boy-Who-Lived could ruin this visit, Viktor told himself.  
  
He lied. This visit did not go at all the way Viktor had planned. He hadn't expected a lot of _privacy_; however, he _had_ expected to spend some time alone with Hermione (discreetly chaperoned, of course.)  
  
However, it was difficult to get a chance to talk to her. The three English witches immediately hit it off with his talkative sisters, and his gregarious brother. They quickly made friends with his parents, as well… plus his grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins… plus his father's business associates… his mother's clients… his grandmother's knitting cronies… their neighbors… his teammates… his coaches… the team owner… the Minister of Sport… the Minister of _Magic_…   
  
Everybody, from their house elf's three-year old daughter to the Minister of Magic's autocratic grandmother, had only one thing in mind and on tongue – _Harry Potter_.  
  
Viktor would have screamed, except he couldn't get a word in edgewise.  
  
  
Of Rupert and Hermione:  
Rupert Granger decided to paint the ceiling; it was boring. The bedroom was painted a pale green, which was very lovely in the daylight, but turned a boring pale grey at night. He wondered what sort of pattern. Something that would look nice when the lights were on, but would still have some sort of form at night.  
  
He had known that he was going to miss his wife and daughter. He missed Hermione every school year. However, he hadn't expected that his separation from his wife would sit in his stomach like a lump of congealed grease and turn the whole world into a beige, dismal, and _boring_ place.  
  
Rupert shook his head. Emma and Hermione had only been gone for a few days. They wouldn't be back for a week. He was going to be in a lot of trouble if he didn't get any sleep before then. He could spend the day sleeping, he supposed. He had nothing else to do. He had arranged his schedule so he could take time off to go to Bulgaria. So, aside from the surgery, which had gone well, thank God, he had no appointments.   
  
He was bored.   
  
It was pathetic, really, that a full grown man couldn't entertain himself for a few days. His car was in the shop, but that didn't mean he had to stay at home until it was fixed. He could go to the cinema. He could go to the zoo. He could go to a museum or two or three. He could go to the _library_. (Hermione's reading habits hadn't come solely from her Mum.) He could even go on a longer jaunt for the weekend. Wait, he did not need to wait for the weekend. He could just pack up and go somewhere like… like where?   
  
Blast it, all he wanted was his wife! There, he'd acknowledged it. He missed his wife and hated the fact that she wasn't in arm's reach. If that made him a big baby, then so be it.   
  
He looked at the bedside clock: 1:23. "Oh, good show, Rupert! At least you're not looking at the clock every seventeen _seconds_. How about a nice cuppa?" He got up and automatically got dressed. Then he wandered downstairs wondering where he expected to go at… 1:38 AM.   
  
His tea tasted like Ovaltine. Really, Rupert always knew that his culinary skills fell short of Cordon Bleu standards, but he'd always figured he could tell the difference between tea and Ovaltine. Maybe next time he'd use a tea bag.   
  
Rupert sat at the kitchen table and wondered if he should risk trying to fix himself something. He wasn't really hungry. Besides, if tea could turn into Ovaltine, who knew what a piece of toast might transfigure into? His Ovaltine grew cold as he debated whether to try to find something on television or if he should just pick up a book. His ruminations were interrupted by the telephone.  
  
Who'd be calling at… blink… 2:11 AM? The second ring brought Rupert out of his seat. There was one person who'd been invited, even encouraged, to call at any odd hour of the night.   
  
"Hello? Yes, Operator, I'll accept the call. Hello, Harry?"  
  
"Mr. Granger?" Harry replied. "You said it was all right to call, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, I'm glad to that you took me up on it," Rupert said. "I was just sitting at the kitchen table trying to think of something to do at two o'clock in the morning."  
  
"Couldn't sleep?" Harry's voice was sympathetic.  
  
"No," Rupert said ruefully. "I didn't invent insomnia; I'm just working on perfecting it. Having a stomach ache doesn't help."  
  
"I've a stomach ache, too," Harry admitted. "I decided to call to tell you that I just got a postcard from Hermione and Ginny. They arrived safely and are having a good time."  
  
"Yes, Blodwen gave me the happy news yesterday," Mr. Granger said.   
  
"Good."  
  
"I wouldn't mind getting an owl from you, come to think of it. How have you been?"  
  
"Huh?" was Harry's witty rejoinder. "Er, I'm fine," he said after a few minutes. He wasn't at all convincing.  
  
"Homework going well?"   
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm mostly done. How did the surgery go? The one on the six-year old?"  
  
"It went well," Rupert said. "I just…"  
  
Harry made a small sound of distress, like he was trying to keep his food down. It was a sound Rupert knew well, as he'd had many patients throw up on him.  
  
"Sorry, got to go," muttered Harry. He hung up before Rupert could answer.  
  
Rupert frowned at the phone. He wasn't psychic, but Harry was clearly in distress. He remembered Hermione's worries about the boy's health. He wasn't sure what to do. Blodwen was already on her way back to Bulgaria. There wasn't anybody he could call about this. He didn't have any way of contacting Dumbledore, short of activating his Watch Out.   
  
He slowly hung up the phone and shook his head. There wasn't anything he could do to help the boy. It would be better if he stayed out of this. An image of his daughter's tear-streaked face came to mind. No, he _couldn't_ stay out of it, but what could he _do_? He didn't even have his car at hand so he could go charging to the rescue.  
  
He had no clue how the Wizarding world dealt with child abuse. He knew all sorts of things the Muggle legal system could do, but the Muggle system would be too slow to help Harry. What he needed was advice! "Send me a sign, damn it!" and slammed his fist down… on Hermione's folder of maps and timetables and detailed instructions on how to get to 4 Privet Drive without magic or a driver's license.  
  
  
Of Dumbledore and Weasleys:   
Ron woke up with a gasp; he slithered desperately out of bed and grabbed his wand off the bedside table. He tried to still his breathing so he could locate the sound that had awoken him.   
  
Nothing. Nothing outside the everyday noises of the never silent burrow, that is. There wasn't even any sound from the abashed ghoul in the attic. (The ghoul had been silent ever since Molly had royally told it off for allowing Ginny to be attacked.) He looked over at his bedside clock, which read, "Zzzz." "Very helpful," growled Ron.   
  
Ron padded downstairs, a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. He stopped in Ginny's room and checked the window. Then past the twins' room, which wasn't emitting any strange noises and no more stench than usual. He prowled restless around the ground floor, looking for a source of his unease. He even crouched down to examine the fireplace with great care, in case an ashwinder had crept out. Nothing.   
  
The fifteen-year old pushed his hair out of his eyes and rocked back on his heel. He must have had a bad dream, he decided. That was what woke him up.   
  
The panicky feeling didn't subside.   
  
Ron took deep, steadying breaths and tried to remember what Trelawney (of all people!) had said about clearing his mind. His breathing evened out and an observer might have suspected that Ron had fallen asleep. He let his thoughts drift. He'd dreamed something, but what? No clear picture emerged, just a general panicky feeling and an ache in his gut that had nothing to do with the excellent bangers and mash that his mother had fed him last night.   
  
He was worried about Hermione, of course, way out in Bulgaria with nobody to look after her but her mother, Ginny, Charlie, Viktor Krum and, from what Ginny had owled, 98% of the Bulgarian Wizarding community.   
  
Ron shook his head, no, this wasn't about Hermione. This was about somebody in a more precarious position, this was about… HARRY!   
  
No clear image came to his mind, but now Ron was certain that something bad had happened/was happening to Harry and he HAD to do something. He looked up at the jar of Floo powder over the mantel, and then shook his head. He had to get his parents first.   
  
Rude awakenings are nothing unusual when you have seven children, two of them Fred and George. This morning's sleep interruption was different. Neither Weasley parent could remember seeing one of their children so… desperate.   
  
"Mum, Dad, I have to talk to Dumbledore, it's urgent!"   
  
"Ron, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's so early!" She looked out the window at the still dark sky.   
  
"This can't wait!" Ron felt like he was going to explode or burst into tears or something. "I've had a vision or something. Something's happened to Harry! Something bad!"   
  
His parents, finally awake, blinked at him. Ron could tell the minute they went from thinking this was just another childish nightmare to realizing this was something else, something worse.   
  
They scuffled into their dressing gowns and slippers and headed for the kitchen. His father took a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it into the fire.   
  
"Professor Albus Dumbledore," he said clearly. Then he stuck his head into the flames. "Albus? Are you there?" After a few minutes, he added. "Sorry to wake you… Ron needs to speak to you." Arthur pulled his head out of the fire. "Go ahead, Ron, be quick though, the Floo is running low."   
  
Ron stuck his head into the fireplace and found himself facing Professor Dumbledore. There were no lights on in the room, but Dumbledore's dressing gown sported a herd of fire-breathing dragons which provided enough light to see by.   
  
"What's wrong, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked. It was the first time that he could remember Dumbledore addressing him by his given name and Ron was taken aback for a few seconds. Then he blurted out. "I've had a vision, something bad has happened to Harry."   
  
Dumbledore's expression was grave. "Can you give me any details?"   
  
Ron shook his head. "I don't remember any of it," he said in frustration. "But, but, you have to _do _something!"   
  
Dumbledore held out a hand. "Calm yourself. Can it have be that you just had a nightmare?"   
  
Ron shook his head. "I can remember nightmares," he said. "Usually things like Harry getting eaten by dragons or Hermione getting kidnapped by trolls…" he shook his head again. He didn't want to remember the nightmares. "This is… different."   
  
To his relief, Dumbledore neither looked angry or skeptical. "I will send Hagrid to investigate straight away," he said in assuring tones. "Meanwhile, perhaps you'd better make sure your room is ready for company. I think it's time Harry left Privet Drive."   
  
"Yes, sir, thank you," Ron blurted. He pulled his head out of the fireplace a few moments before the flames died down. He reported what Dumbledore had said.   
  
"Good," Molly said. She looked out the window at the graying sky. "It looks like it's going to be a long day. We need to get started."   
  
  
Of Wizards and Muggles:   
When you ask for a sign from God it behooves you to act promptly when you get it. The sun was just showing when Rupert arrived at 4 Privet Drive. He'd spent the entire trip figuring out how to convince the Dursleys to let him in and he thought he had a plan. It was too early to call on someone, but that actually assisted his plan. He knew, from what Hermione had told him, that the Dursleys were ashamed of Harry's powers. He thought he knew how to use that to his advantage.  
  
Rupert had lost track of how many times he'd rung the bell when the door was finally answered. A beefy, neck-less wonder with a fungal growth that vaguely resembled a moustache yanked the door open and glared. "Do you know what time it is?" Vernon's unpleasant growl demanded.  
  
"It's time for me to check on Harry Potter," Rupert said in no-nonsense tones. "And, unless you want the entire neighborhood coming over to find out what's going on, I suggest you stop shouting and let me in."  
  
He advanced, although there was no way for him to physically move the lump of neo-humanity in front of him.   
  
Dursley gave way with a huffing noise.  
  
"Vernon, who is it?" a shrill voice asked.  
  
"Dad?" grumped a groggy male voice.  
  
Ah, the semi-tame shrew and her porcine offspring, Rupert thought. "I was sent to check on Potter," he told the reedy, horse-faced woman.  
  
"What! At this hour?" shrilled Petunia. "Don't you people have any sense of decency?"  
  
"Would you rather I come at a time when your neighbors can see me?" Rupert asked icily.   
  
That shut Petunia up. It sent the massively overweight teen scurrying back to his room.  
  
"Where's Potter?"  
  
Petunia turned on her heel and lead the way. The attic wouldn't be too bad as a room, Rupert decided. Properly refitted and air conditioned, it would actually make decent living quarters for a growing boy. However, the Dursleys had put no effort and less money into the project. It was uncomfortably hot in the attic, even at this hour. There were stacks of boxes and trunks taking up the majority of the space. Near one wall there was a camp bed, a desk and two trunks.  
  
"Harry?" Rupert called as he moved towards the camp bed. The bed was empty, but when Rupert got close enough, he could see that there was a pile of blankets on the far side, out of sight of the entrance. "Harry?"  
  
"Idiot boy, can't he even sleep in a bed properly?" snarled Petunia's voice from behind him.  
  
Rupert gave her a frosty glare and Petunia left.  
  
"Wha…? Who are you?"   
  
Rupert turned back to the camp bed to find a pair of green eyes peering from a tangle of black hair. The good thing about that hair, he thought, is that it made it possible to recognize Harry under almost any circumstances.  
  
"Rupert Granger, at your service," Rupert came over and sat on the near side of the camp bed. "We've met briefly in Diagon Alley." He brushed aside the sodden fringe and felt the boy's forehead. Harry was hot and sweaty, except for the three slashes that made up the infamous scar. The scar felt cool and greasy, rather like waxed dental floss.  
  
"Hey!" Harry said crossly, pulling away. "What are you… Mr. Granger?"  
  
Rupert grinned. "We didn't get to finish our conversation," he said lightly. "I decided to come in person to check on you."  
  
"Oh." Harry blinked at him as if trying to process this information.  
  
"You sounded like you might be ill. In fact, you're running a fever," Rupert said.   
  
Harry fumbled for his glasses that were sitting on a trunk that was next to the camp bed. "I thought you were a dentist," he mumbled. "How could you tell that I was sick?"  
  
"I _am_ a dentist," Rupert said. "I'm also a father, and I can tell these things. You said you had a stomach ache. You also sounded like you might need to throw up. Did you?"  
  
Harry squinted at him. "Is this the kind of things fathers have to put up with?"  
  
"All the time," Rupert said. "Now, answer the question. And why don't you hop on the bed so I can get a look at you?"  
  
"The stupid thing will probably collapse," Harry explained. "That's why I've been sleeping on the floor."  
  
Rupert stared for a few minutes. Then he entertained a brief fantasy about the Dursleys that involved dental drills, forceps and no anesthetic.   
  
"Harry? _Did_ you throw up? Have you had any other kind of trouble, like diarrhea? I hate to pry, but this could be important. At the very least, if you're sick, we might be able to get you out of here."  
  
"Oh, erm, well, yes, I threw up last night, but only because dinner was so foul."  
  
"Any sign of blood?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Well, it was tomato soup, so I might not have noticed," he said with a frown. "No, tomato soup isn't the same colour as blood."  
  
"This talk about stomach aches has me worried. You've been under so much stress lately that I think you could be developing an ulcer. It's past time we got you to a doctor. Any idea how to go about that?"  
  
"Er, we could send Hedwig to Dumbledore," Harry said, looking past Rupert to the desk.   
  
Rupert looked over his shoulder and jumped to his feet when he found himself looking into the eyes of a large owl with a very sharp looking beak. He could have sworn the owl snickered at him.  
  
"I'll write a note, then," Rupert said. He pulled out his pocket notebook and a pen and quickly scribbled a brief report to the Headmaster. He looked at Hedwig uncertainly.  
  
"There's string on the desk," Harry said. He was now sitting on the trunk and Rupert could see he was wearing an oversized t-shirt as a night shirt.  
  
Rupert cut off a length of string and hesitated.  
  
Hedwig stuck her leg out and looked at him with an expression of kindly condensation.  
  
"Thank you," Rupert said. He carefully tied the note to Hedwig's leg. "That's not too tight is it?" he asked.  
  
Hedwig examined the note for a few minutes, gave her leg an experimental shake. Apparently deciding that Rupert had done a sufficient job, she launched herself and darted out a window that Rupert would have thought was too small for a bird of her wingspan.  
  
"She's great," Harry said. "She'll get to Dumbledore pretty soon."  
  
"Good, then you should get dressed and have something to eat."  
  
"I'm not hungry," Harry said.  
  
"You should eat," Rupert said.  
  
"If I'm going to have my stomach examined for ulcers, should I leave it empty? I mean, isn't it bad form to spew on your doctor?"  
  
Rupert made a wry face. "You may have a point. Anyway, get dressed and you might want to pack, too. I expect you're going to be leaving the Dursleys for the summer."  
  
"Great!"  
  
"Do you have something decent to wear?"  
  
"Yeah, got some new stuff from one of my parents' former teacher," Harry said.   
  
"Good."  
  
Rupert left the room to give Harry enough privacy to change.   
  
Petunia Dursley was dressed and watching him like a hawk, but the male Dursleys remained out of sight. Just as well, in Rupert's opinion.  
  
"You're that girl's father, aren't you?" Petunia demanded. "The bushy haired one that kissed Potter at the train station."  
  
"Yes, so?" Rupert demanded.  
  
"You should keep your daughter in line, acting like that where decent folk can see her!"  
  
"Well, that's not a problem you'll have to worry about, is it?"  
  
He paced around the living room while he waited for Harry and wondered how long it would take to get an answer from Dumbledore.  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
"Not another one!" snapped Petunia.  
  
Rupert hoped so. Ignoring his manners, he opened the front door himself, and had an epiphany as to why opossums played dead.   
  
That was really the only sensible reaction when faced with the biggest, shaggiest biped he had ever laid eyes outside of a zoo. His first instinct was to slam the door, but his muscles refused to respond.  
  
"Yeh're not Dursley," the giant biped growled.  
  
Rupert's voice refused to respond, fortunately, the giant biped didn't wait for an answer.  
  
"Who are yeh?"  
  
Rupert swallowed hard and managed to speak. "I'm Rupert Granger. And you are?"  
  
"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, at yer service. Yeh must be Hermione's dad. Great lass, Hermione. She'll be a great witch, too. Yeh must be awfu' proud o' her." Underneath the wild tangle of hair, beetle black eyes regarded Rupert with friendliness.  
  
Fear evaporated. So this is the Hagrid that Hermione was always enthusing over. Obviously, he was a man of great intelligence and discernment. "Yes, I am her father and yes, I am proud of her. I'm also pleased to meet you." He held out his hand and the giant engulfed it, but didn't do any damage.  
  
"Hagrid!" Harry came down the stairs, dragging a leather trunk behind him. He was dressed in blue jeans, a maroon shirt and a denim jacket. "How'd you get here so fast?"   
  
Any linger traces of fear Rupert felt for Hagrid vanished at the sight of the smile on Harry's face. No child could look that happy to see a cruel person.   
  
"Dumbledore sent me earlier, he had a tip that yeh was in trouble," Hagrid explained. "Hedwig met me while on was on me way. I sent her on to Dumbledore ter tell him that things were worse'n we thought."  
  
"I'm not _that_ sick," Harry said.   
  
"Good, yeh got all yer things?"  
  
"This is a trunk my Mum owned," Harry said, pointing at the leather trunk on the floor. "My school stuff is still in the attic." Harry started up the stairs.  
  
"I'll carry it fer yeh," Hagrid grunted. The giant stomped up the stairs, making the whole house shake.   
  
"MUM!"  
  
"Just stay in your room, Dudley, nobody wants to hurt you," Harry yelled.  
  
"It's that freak that gave me a pig's tail, isn't it?" Dudley called back.  
  
"I wouldn't insult him, if I were you!" Harry said. "I'm leaving now!"  
  
"It's about time," Petunia called back.  
  
"See you next summer!" Harry said cheerfully. June was a long way away. Anything could happen between now and then.  
  
They carried the trunks outside. Rather, Hagrid tucked both trunks under his arms and carried them out. There was a yellow van with a white bumblebee painted on the side parked in the Dursleys' driveway.  
  
"White Bumblebee Exterminators?" Harry asked. "What do you exterminate? Rats?"  
  
Hagrid engulfed Harry's head in one hand. "Nosy ickle wizardlings w' sloppy black hair," he responded.   
  
Some people would have made that sound like a threat, or maybe a joke. Somehow, Hagrid, made it sound like an endearment.  
  
Harry grinned and pulled away.  
  
"So, yeh got everythin'?" Hagrid asked. "School stuff, clothes, owl, owl cage?"  
  
Harry slapped his forehead. "I forgot Hedwig's cage," he said. "It's still in Dudley's extra room."  
  
Harry led the way back to his former sleeping quarters. "I don't see it," he said, perplexed.   
  
"Is it up in the attic?" Rupert asked.   
  
"I din't see it there," Hagrid said.   
  
Then Harry remembered and he was forced to confess that he'd sent it to Ginny. "I've been meaning to get her a new cage, anyway," he added. "Sorry."  
  
"You're going to get _Ginny_ a new cage?" Rupert asked.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, but refrained from saying anything nasty to the man who had come to rescue him.  
  
"Tha's no problem," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Now, are yeh fergettin' anythin' fer real?"   
  
"I don't think so," Harry looked around the room to see if he _had_ forgotten anything. He lifted the bedclothes to check if there was anything under the bed. There was nothing under the loose floorboards. However, there was something gold and glittering near the wall and he picked it up curiously. It was a golden sphere about the size of a walnut.   
  
"What's that?" Rupert asked.   
  
"Dunno," Harry said. "Looks like a Snitch… only without wings. Hagrid, do you know what this is?"   
  
"Put that down!" roared Hagrid. "Get awa' from it!"   
  
Startled, Harry dropped the sphere and jumped away. Too late, though. The last thing Rupert remembered was a blast of light and cold…  
  
  
Of Snakes and Badgers:  
Three teen-aged hospital volunteers sat outside the main door sipping pumpkin fizz as they took a ten minute breather from their chores.  
  
"Are you all right?" a blonde girl with a freckled face asked the blond, round faced boy.  
  
"Oh, wonderful, thank you," sighed the boy.  
  
"Sarcasm? From a Gryffindor? Neville, I didn't know you had it in you," the blonde girl said.  
  
"Concern? From a Slytherin? Pansy, I'd have never suspected," Neville returned with no real heat.  
  
"He's got you on that one," Millicent Bulstrode said. "We're the horrible snake-girls is what we are." The tall, square-jawed girl smoothed down her white robes and flicked a bit of dust off the badge that was sewn onto the front.   
  
The Mediwizard's Apprentice Badge had a badger holding a caduceus on it, which is why the hospital volunteers were called Honey Badgers. Pansy never did understand why they weren't called Honey Snakes. Snakes had a longer association with the healing arts than badgers did. Besides, she liked snakes. They were always nice to her.  
  
"And I am an arrogant lion-boy," Neville put in.  
  
Pansy had become familiar with Neville since she had joined the Mediwizard's Apprentices. Neville was there to visit his parents so often that it was impossible not to see him a lot. Much to her surprise, she'd found that Neville wasn't nearly as stupid as he seemed in Potions class. In fact, he was so good at Herbology, that the midwife in charge of the Still Room commandeered him to be her 'volunteer' assistant. Neville didn't seem to mind.   
  
"It helps me to forget my troubles," he'd once commented.  
  
"_You_ need help in forgetting?" Millicent had asked, incredulously.  
  
"Forget what?" Neville had teased.  
  
"Forget _it_," Millicent shot back.  
  
Millicent was a different person away from Hogwarts, too. Pansy noted. At school she was sullen and silent to the point where most of their classmates, even their roommates, thought that she was stupid. Out of the Slytherin dungeons, she was a normal teen-aged girl. (Albeit a very _big_ girl with a propensity for punching people in the nose.)  
  
Pansy also knew about Neville's parents. Her father, who was chief chirugeon at St. Mungo's, had been railing about their condition for as long as she could remember. They had been by Death Eaters and driven insane. She wondered what it would be like to have parents… or two have parents who didn't recognize you.  
  
"How are your parents, today?" Pansy asked, a little hesitantly.  
  
"Well, they didn't know who I was, but at least they thought I was there to take care of the fish instead of being there to rob the place."  
  
"They have fish?" Millicent asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Just then a very strange looking vehicle pulled up.  
  
"Is that a Muggle ambulance?" Neville asked.  
  
Pansy shook her head. "Muggle ambulances have red crosses on them, not white bumblebees. Millie, get the emergency crew out here."  
  
Just then the driver of the van came around the front.  
  
"Hagrid!" Neville called.  
  
There was no mistaking the giant groundskeeper. Pansy scowled. She still hadn't forgiven Hagrid for the monster-hippogriff incident. Finding out that he was half-monster himself hadn't endeared the shaggy oaf to Pansy at all.  
  
"Get some stretchers out here," bellowed the half-giant.  
  
"Get them yourself," Pansy muttered, but Millie had already fetched an emergency crew.  
  
Two patients were bundled onto the stretchers and taken inside.  
  
Pansy could see Millie's jaw drop as the parade passed by.  
  
"Somebody you know?" Pansy asked.  
  
Millie had to work her jaw a few times in order to get any sound out. "That was… one of them was…"  
  
"WHO?" demanded Pansy and Neville.   
  
"_Harry Potter_."  
  
"Harry?" Neville's head whipped around to look after the disappeared stretchers. He hauled out his watch. "Good, I've got a few minutes, then." He hurried towards the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" Pansy asked.  
  
"To call the Weasleys," Neville answered.   
  
  
Of Potters:  
It seemed like he had been burning for days.  
  
He didn't know where he was or even who he was. All he knew was that he was hot.  
  
There were voices, but he couldn't make sense of what they were saying. He opened his eyes but all he could see were a bunch of people in white. Angels? Wait, if those were angels, why was it so hot here?  
  
"Sent for Mrs. Granger, of course. She and the girls…"  
  
"….sheer luck that nobody was killed…"  
  
"Luck, nothing, Harry's just too damn…"  
  
Ron? He squinted and could make out Weasley red hair.  
  
"Ron! Language! You're in a hospital!"   
  
Oh, that would explain the white robes.  
  
"… thought Hagrid was going to burst an artery…"  
  
"I'm not too happy myself. There's already been one murder done in this wing."  
  
"_Out_! He needs rest!" a crisp, autocratic voice spoke.  
  
Madam Pomfrey?  
  
"Really, Madame Handwerker," Mrs. Weasley was talking again. She seemed very upset about something. "Surely there must be a better place to put him than a haunted wing! It's _freezing_ in here!"  
  
Maybe the cold was to keep him from bursting into flames.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," the autocratic voice spoke. "This wing is the best choice. It's empty and more defensible. Surely you can…"   
  
He couldn't keep his eyes open. The voices faded to a buzz.  
  
Then it was cold; the bone-chilling cold that went beyond mere physical.  
  
Another voice – "Can it be? It is! He's finally here, poor boy."  
  
He'd been recognized. Of course he'd been recognized. He was famous. _Everybody_ knew who he was, except himself. He managed to get his eyes open again. There was a man dressed in white robes. Harry squinted, but it was hard to make out any details. There was no light except for the faint glow coming from the figure.  
  
Glow? From the figure?  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Oh, right, that was who he was. Famous Harry Potter. He wondered if he could manage to forget again.  
  
"Yeah," he managed.  
  
"Sorry to bother you, but I have been waiting to meet you for such a long time."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," the ghost said. He made a short bow to Harry. "I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Tiberius Potter. Your father was my son."  
  
  
**CHAPTER UPDATE**!

I forgot that I had Harry send Hedwig's cage to Ginny, and had it here. This has been corrected. My appreciation goes to the readers who picked up on this… Bob, amulder, and DeeKay   
  
Author's Notes:

  
I made several corrections to Chapter 15 and a few to Chapter 2 and reposted them. You can check my author's notes in those chapters for more details on the changes.  
  
It looks like we're coming to the end of this story. Don't worry, you're not getting shorted, it's just with the triple length chapter fifteen and this one (which actually contains half of chapter seventeen) I'm reaching the end in few chapters than I figured. However, 'A Sirius Situation' will follow post-haste. You'll like that one. It's got Quidditch! And there will be some, shall we say, '_face-to-face interaction.' _ grin  
  
_Foma_ is the Bulgarian form of 'Thomas'. _Katerina_, _Marketa_, and _Iulia_ are Bulgarian for Katherine, Margaret and Julia. Another variation of those three names could be Karen, Gretchen and Jill – that's me and my sisters!  
  
Handwerker: The minute I heard this name, I knew I had to give it to a Hufflepuff. And the director of the hospital needed a surname, so it all worked out nicely. ** Handwerker is German for 'day laborer.' Nathan Handwerker founded Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs on Coney Island.  
  
  
DaBear: Thanks for the review! Sorry to keep you waiting, I'm working as fast as I can! ** Yeah, cats are sneaky. One of the many reasons I chose a cat for Harry. ** Voldemort needs a good laxative… LOL!  
  
Chocolate Muse: Thanks for coming back and reviewing! This story is almost through. The next should be fun, though.   
  
Lilia: Thanks for the review! I'm doing my best to update faster at GryffindorTower and at SugarQuill. I still have more stories at fanfiction.net, though. ** Harry hasn't finished with the contents of Lily's trunk. His mother has something special in there for him.  
  
Amulder: Thanks for the kind words! I like Ginny. She's the character most like me (as far as I can see.) ** Well, Harry is farther along in his studies than the Marauders were, but, yes, his ability to change did come on with suspicious suddenness. ** I hope that Ginny gets let in on the secrets. If nothing else, she's demonstrated that she can keep them. ** Glad you liked my use of the fairy tales and my version of the ghoul!  
  
Taself: Thank you for coming back and reviewing! I had fun with this chapter, could you tell?  
  
domino84: Thank you for the review and for the kind remarks about my details. I try to amuse myself and I hope it works for other people. I also like to write stories that people want to read more than once. ** Thanks for the compliments on my take on fairy tales! ** No, I haven't read Artemis Fowl, but I suspect that I should. I have read some of Tanithe Lee's and Robin McKinley's redone fairy tales. ** I plan to have Ginny find out about Sirius, but not necessarily from the source she should learn that secret from.  
  
Bob: Thanks for the review! And you're welcome for the trunk! There's more to come, I promise! ** Can you read my mind? ** McGonagall is not stupid. ** Pixie's taste runs to ginger cats, not ruddy cats. ** I think Harry will always be shorter than average. ** The Bookwyrm is in this universe. ** Three.  
  
MoNmOn: Thanks for the kind words! (Yes, it's a Seer-ee-us sitch-ee-aye-shun!)  
  
A. Lee: Thank you, you're so kind to say so! ** Some people will go to any length to avoid asking for a date. ** We may never know the truth about which brother is Ginny's favourite! ** Yes, it was very nice of Harry to give Ginny that cloak.   
  
SailorChibi: Thanks for _the review! ** Yes, Harry is beginning to feel something for Ginny. ** Well, I said "I'll get to Harry's Animagus form before I get to the others. (They won't get forms until A Sirius Situation.)"_ I didn't specify who 'they' were. I'm sorry to say that my response was still wrong, though. Ron gets his Animagus form in the next chapter.  
  
Lan: Thank you for the kind words! Sorry, this story is almost finished, but there will be others. There's going to be a long, dry spell between Book 5 and Book 6!  
  
Ozma: Thanks for the long review! You know I love it when I see what someone's favorite parts are! ** If Dumbledore thinks he's heard the last of that embarrassing nickname, he's forgotten who he's dealing with! ** I had fun with the Weasleys. I figured that Rupert was getting so much air time that Arthur should have some fun, too. ** Thanks for the kind words on the Sirius/Harry/Arabella sequence. That part got rewritten about a dozen times to get it right! ** Yes, the robe is literally going to seed. The dust bunnies have to eat something! ** Harry's cute in any form. ** When I thought of Harry wanting to call Sirius 'Dad' I decided that there had to be a witness to this scene. ** Yes, Harry's got to find out what an amazing girl Ginny is before he can fall for her. ** I changed the scene to include Percy in the list of adult wizards. ** Yes, I mean Prof. Sinistra. I think she was a few years older than Lily, and probably in Ravenclaw. But they were united in a common cause – to wreak revenge on Sirius Black! ** Glad that Harry's reaction to his baby picture rang true. (It's sort of my reaction when I look at any picture of myself.) ** Thanks for the compliment on my author's notes! I work hard on these!  
  
The Queen of Fire and Ice: Thanks for the review! Sorry the chapter took so long! ** Ron has his suspicions.  
  
Lourdes: Thank you!  
  
Iniysa: Thank you!  
  
Amulder: Thanks for the tip about the 'subtle Americanism'. I didn't know Brits usually used front loading washing machines. I've changed that bit in the story.   
  
Female Fred: Thank you!  
  
Little House Girl: Thanks for the review! I think this is going to be about 18 chapters.  
  
Alla: Thanks for the review and sorry to keep you waiting! ** It makes me so happy that people want more of my fiction! ** Thanks for saying what your favorite parts were. ** I think the idea of being in prison is a naturally horrifying to humans (which is why it's used as a punishment). Even something as minor as being sent to the corner or getting stuck in the elevator can be nasty. ** I can't imagine that Ron is stupid. He's not too in touch with his feelings, but he's only fifteen for crying out loud. It takes some time to come to terms with that sort of thing. ** Thanks! I want Harry and Ginny to be friends before they start snogging.  
  
  
Andrea13: Thanks for reviewing! ** "Attic of Fairy Tales" I _like_ it! ** Glad you like the opening of the trunk. There are still more surprises in that thing! ** Yes, handing out the Christmas cards is going to be a major plot point in the next story. ** Thanks for mentioning your favorite lines! (I got the part about Dumbledore being a red-head from Chamber of Secrets, by the by. He had auburn hair in Riddle's memory.)  
  
Crazyfriendsfan: Thanks for the kind words! I'm writing as fast as I can! I want everything done by June!  
  
Punkin: Thanks for the review! Your description of how you and your friend reacted is _so_ flattering, I was grinning all day! Thanks! Thanks! Thanks! Tell your friend that I said 'hi!' ** Ah, yes, the life of a college student, I remember it well. ** I think Harry deserves to have a Dad, not just a father figure. ** Nicely was created by Sirius and Remus and based on one created by Sirius, James, Remus and Peter. Of course she has a sense of humor. ** Yes, Harry is beginning to get interested. The next step will take Ginny's presence. ** I love cats, too, and I wanted something that would be inconspicuous at Hogwarts. ** Thanks for the compliments on the attic! ** You're not boring me! ** I figure Punkin would be a great nickname for somebody with Weasley red hair. Besides, I think it's a wonderful name! ** Now, get some sleep! A growing girl needs more than two hours!  
  
Von: Thanks for the review! You're right about the scene where Harry changes back. I've re-written it and I'll repost it when I post this. As far as I know, the Dursleys never beat on Harry. ** Yes, it's not good for Harry to be so cut off. Don't worry, he doesn't stay that way for long! ** No, the white streaks don't cause the black outs. The full explanation will be next chapter. ** Yep, I have a lot of ideas for the summer between fifth and sixth years. (I hope they don't contradict canon too much!) ** I haven't seen any stories where Harry becomes an Animagus. *sniff* I think Rowling's going to make him one, but I don't think she's going to make him a cat. ** Love the idea of Harry's subconscious chanting 'cats cats cats cats'. J ** Why a cat? Well, Harry's going to need those nine lives if he's going to survive Voldemort! Besides, it would be rather hard for something spectacular like a gryphon or a lion to sneak around Hogwarts after curfew. ** I hadn't thought about it, but yes, now Harry's a red-head! ** Abyssinians aren't the cuddly type. ** Well, addressing a letter to Sirius might be too obvious and 'Snuffles' and 'Padfoot' are so obviously code names that somebody might get suspicious. (Besides, Wormtail knows the Padfoot name.) ** True, being at the Weasleys could be stressful. However, Harry could relieve one source of stress and everybody would be on their best behavior with him around. ** Actually, they're both black cloaks, one with green lining and one with red lining. Harry doesn't need to keep both of them and Ginny just said she needed a cloak. And yes, the other cloak will be a giveaway about where the gift cloak came from. ** You're welcome for the long chapter!  
  
Katrina: Thanks for the review! ** Verge? Hmm… sounds good!   
  
VenusDeOmnipotent: Thanks for the review! ** I've started Harry on the road to H/G! He thought of giving the cloak to Ginny. He didn't think about giving it to Hermione! ** No, I didn't wave my chopsticks at the magician. I never even unwrapped them. There would have been no point, I still can't use the things!   
  
Chary: Thanks for reviewing! Now, if I could only convince you to finish your next chapter… ** No, Harry didn't learn to be an Animagus overnight. Re-read Sirius' conversation with Nicely for a hint as to what's going on. ** No root beer? Oh, dear. I'll have to come up with a different version for the Gryffindor Tower/ Sugarquill version. Maybe an old fashioned black and white (vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and soda water.) I bet pumpkin fizz would go nicely with vanilla ice cream. ** I knew that once I'd mentioned that Dumbledore had an embarrassing nickname, I'd have to reveal it. I expect it's written down somewhere. That's the price of being as famous as Dumbledore. (Yes, Hermione has to find out. She needs a way to ensure Dumbledore never tells Ron and Harry about the 'Moppet' nickname.) ** Thanks for the compliments on the attic! I thought up most of those while I was waiting for my fish and chips (Honest!) ** I hope Rowling does something with Harry and Sirius. I love those two together. ** I confess, that's actually my own reaction when I look at my baby pictures. ** There are still some surprises in the trunk. (You already guessed what one of them was!) ** You're right, I rewrote that scene so that the Dursleys are preparing for an after dinner party and Dudley hasn't left for his friend's house yet. In the rewrite, Petunia wanted Harry to eat before the guests arrived. Thanks for pointing that out!   
  
Eris, Queen of the Shadows: Thank you for the review! I appreciate everybody who takes the time to say nice things to me. ** No, the cloak doesn't kill people. In Little Red's case, it's what she used to humanely capture the werewolf that had broken into her grandmother's cottage. When the moon set, he turned back into the nice huntsman that he usually was. ** Yup, that broom is getting closer to Harry every day.  
  
Michaela: Thanks for the review! ** Thanks for the comment about not calling somebody 'ma'm'. I'll have to rewrite chapter two to remove that.  
  
whoever I am at the moment: Thanks for the review, whoever you are! ** Thanks for the kind words on Harry's Animagus form! There are worse things to be named after than an Abyssinian!   
  
Alina: Thank you for all the kind comments! Sorry to keep you waiting! Glad it was worth the wait! ** Actually the story is going to end shortly after Harry's birthday. ** Thanks, glad you like the nicknames! ** Yes, Sirius thought that Harry had been turned into something small and edible. ** Harry being a cat is going to save his life. ** Glad you liked the long-delayed trunk scene! Somebody is going to have to show him how to deflate the pillows. *cough**Ginny*cough*.   
  
Lizzypadfoot: Thanks for the review! I'm the same generation as James, Lily, Sirius and Remus. ** Thanks for correcting me on Scabbers/Wormtail's color. I've changed that in chapter fifteen.   
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse: Thanks for the review! ** Glad you liked the Red Riding Hood joke! ** Yes, the Wizarding World has things that make me sigh, too! *cough**Sirius**cough*.  
  
Allison: Thanks for the compliment!  
  
Miriam: Thank you for reviewing! No one is obliged to, but it makes me very happy when people do!   
  
rosemary thyme: Thanks for the review! How sweet of you to say that this is one of your favorite fics! ** You may certainly have some more!  
  
Squintz: Thank you for the review! I pleased and honored to be the first person on your favorites list! ** Thanks for telling me what you like about my story! ** I'm not really triskaidekaphobic, I just like the word.   
  
Eliel Radragon: Thank you for the compliments! ** I was five when I cut my head on the rock in Yosemite National Park. I was seven when I cut my head on the table. Cool, you have a lightning bolt scar! ** I am updating at Gryffindor Tower! I've been a little slow at that, but I'm working on speeding up a bit. Thanks for taking the time to look me up here!  



	17. Gang Aft Agly

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

****

Chapter 17: Gang Aft Agly

Warning! Evil Cliffhanger Ahead! (Below) ((Whatever))

  
Will Somebody PLEASE Explain What's Going On Here?  
Somebody must have left the window open… unless the twins had hit the fifth-years' dormitory with a chilling charm. Harry shivered and squinted around the room, not really upset that he'd been awakened. He'd been having a disturbing dream; something about making Quidditch more interesting by replacing Bludgers with Hungarian Horntails.  
  
The more he looked around the strange room, however, the more confused he became. He wasn't in Gryffindor Tower. He wasn't in the Hospital Wing, but it was obviously a hospital. The last thing he remembered, he'd been at the Dursleys. Wait, something had happened…  
  
"Awake, are you?" a familiar voice said ironically. "It's about time you stopped scaring us, you prat!"  
  
" 'Lo, Ron," Harry rasped. His throat hurt. "Wha' happen' Mist' Gr'nger 'n' Hag'd?"  
  
"They're in better condition than you," Ron said. "They weren't out for two days and neither of them threw up, either."  
  
Harry's eyes felt grainy, and they could _not_ be working correctly. It looked like Ron was dressed up to play an angel in a school play. White trousers, white turtleneck, and white robes. "Wha' happen' to yer clothes? Too much bleach?"  
  
Ron gaped at him for a second. "This is my Mediwizard's Apprentice uniform!" he huffed. He fingered the lapel of his robe. "Can't you see the badge?"  
  
"No," Harry muttered. When Ron got all shirty like this, he _could_ see a strong resemblance between Ron and Percy, but he kept that to himself.  
  
"How you ever became Seeker I'll never know," Ron said in mock despair.  
  
"Mus've been my awesome good looks," Harry muttered. He shoved himself farther up on his pillows. "Where're we? Why'z't so cold?"  
  
"St. Mungo's Hospital for the Terminally Deluded," Ron said.   
  
Ron's words were sarcastic, but his tone wasn't. It actually sounded to Harry like Ron was trying very hard to be sarcastic. Everything was blurry without his glasses, but Harry thought Ron looked relieved. He must have been really sick.   
  
"Plus, you have been especially privileged to be the only patient in the haunted wing."  
  
Harry looked at him blankly.  
  
"That's why it's so cold in here," Ron elaborated.  
  
Harry snorted and pushed himself up again. He reached back to tug at his pillows.   
  
"Whoa, easy," Ron hustled forward and fussed with Harry's pillows.  
  
"You sound like your mum," Harry said.  
  
"Gee, thanks," Ron said. "Mum's up in arms because Madam Handwerker put you in here." He shivered and rubbed his hands up his arms. "She thinks the cold can't be good for you."  
  
Harry frowned, there was something he needed to tell Ron, but he couldn't bring it to the front of his mind. Something about haunting…"  
  
Ron interrupted his train of thought by saying, "How do you feel?"  
  
"Battered, an' my throat's sore," Harry said. He looked around for his glasses and found them on the bedside table.  
  
"Not surprising, the way you puked your guts up," Ron said comfortingly.  
  
"Gee, thanks," Harry said. It took him a few minutes to fumble his glasses onto his face. It took him a few minutes more to put his finger on what was so strange about the room. There were no windows, but sunshine was coming from somewhere. He looked up, but there were no skylights, either.  
  
"You ruined my robes," Ron sounded amused.  
  
"Sorry," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Don't be, they were older than Dumbledore's gran," Ron said, trying to be cheerful. "I got these spiffy robes to replace them." He held up his arms to show off his all white clothing.  
  
"Good," Harry waited, but Ron wasn't volunteering any information. "So? What happened? Why am I here? And where did you get those clothes?" he demanded.  
  
"You got decked by a loophole," Ron said.   
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Never mind just now. What's the last thing you remember?"  
  
"Erm, I called Mr. Granger to tell him that I'd heard from Hermione."  
  
"Why didn't you owl me?" Ron demanded. "I was worried about her, too, you know! Pigwidgeon just made it back yesterday."  
  
"Well, it was 2 AM!" Harry replied.  
  
"You called Hermione's dad at _two o'clock in the morning_!?" Ron demanded. "What were you _thinking_?"  
  
Harry shrank back a bit. "They invited me to call at any time," he said unhappily. "He's not mad, is he?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "He just said that you'd called him." He hesitated. "It's just so unlike you to do something like that."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time," he said.  
  
"You are a nutter. Anyway, I'm supposed to make a report of what you remember. So, what do you remember?"  
  
"Erm, Mr. Granger showed up and told me to get packed. I think I was running a fever and he wanted to get me away from the Dursleys."  
  
"Good man."  
  
"It's a good thing I didn't owl you, 'cos we needed Hedwig to send a message to Dumbledore. I guess she came across Hagrid on the way and let him know I needed help. Anyway, Hagrid showed up in this van and we loaded my stuff in. Then I checked my room for anything I'd forgotten and that's when I found that exploding sphere."  
  
He studied Ron as the red-head finished writing notes. "So, what was that thing?"  
  
"It was a combination of an obscure parlor trick and an old-fashioned charm put together in a way nobody thought of, nobody on our side, anyway."  
  
"Go on," Harry said blankly.  
  
"Well, the obscure parlor trick was a simple chameleon spell. It makes whatever its cast on blend into the background. The wards around your house were fooled into thinking it was something innocuous, like a bug or something. The chameleon spell might even have hitched a ride with Pigwidgeon. Remember when you said you'd been knocked out by Pigwidgeon ramming you?"  
  
"You mean it was that sphere?"  
  
"Maybe," Ron said. "Madam Handwerker said it was lucky that you'd been sleeping in the attic. If you'd spent a lot of time in the same room as that thing or if you had picked it up when there was nobody around but those Muggles…" he trailed off.  
  
"That's nasty," Harry grimaced.  
  
"The worst part is that it isn't even dark magic, so none of the sensor wards were triggered."  
  
"_Not_ dark magic?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "No, it's a simple emotional-state amplifier. It just takes whatever state you're in and increases it. People used to use them when they had insomnia. You see, they're in a sleepy state, so the ESA puts them to sleep." Ron paused. "That's what happened to Mr. Granger, by the way. He'd been up all night, you know."  
  
Harry had a vague recollection. "So he's okay, then? And Hagrid?"  
  
"Oh, sure, the doctors are keeping Mr. Granger here just to be sure, though. He was put to sleep for about sixteen hours. On the other hand, Hagrid has been up since you got here. He was worried about you and, man, did _that_ get amplified! He broke all sorts of speed records getting you here, and it's a bloody good thing that he did. You could have… you almost… you know."  
  
"Sorry."   
  
"Would you quit apologizing?" Ron grumbled. "I swear, if you apologize again, I'll dump the water pitcher on you."  
  
"You're an angel of mercy, that's what you are," Harry said.  
  
"I know," Ron paused again. "Hermione will be here soon. I mean, they finally got word to the Grangers that Mr. Granger is in the hospital. They've made arrangements to change their Portkey reservation"  
  
Harry was worried. "They've cut short their holiday?"  
  
"Well, Mr. Granger's in the hospital, what do you expect them to do?"   
  
"Hadn't got that far," Harry admitted.  
  
Ron picked up the water pitcher. "You aren't thinking of apologizing again, are you?"  
  
"Not to _you_," Harry said.  
  
"Well, don't apologize to them, either. They'll be upset enough at you being in the hospital without you acting like you did it deliberately. Besides, you know they won't mind cutting short their trip to see Vicky if that means seeing you," Ron grinned and held the pitcher closer. "Ginny especially won't mind."  
  
Harry felt his face heating up. This seemed like a good time to change the subject. "Why are you a Mediwizard's Apprentice?"  
  
"It was the only way they would let me stay in the room with you. I mean, they needed someone here to keep an eye on you, and they're short-handed, as always, and they need somebody they can trust to not be working for You-Know-Who and…" Ron ran out of breath. He just sat there for a while, staring at the floor and fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.  
  
Harry waited, although he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Ron was about to say something important. He could tell by the way Ron's ears were turning pink.  
  
Finally, Ron blurted. "I've decided that I'm going to be a Mediwizard."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"But I need to get a lot of O.W.L.s," Ron said.  
  
"Bet you could get more O.W.L.s than Percy," Harry said with complete certainty.  
  
"I really need an O.W.L. in Potions."  
  
"Get one."  
  
Ron gaped at him for a few seconds, before he continued. "According to the brochures, I should get involved in some extra-curricular activities, too."  
  
"Like what?"   
  
"Well, like tutoring younger students, or starting a club, or maybe helping a teacher do research."  
  
Harry murmured. "Sounds like a lot of choices." He snuggled down into his blankets.  
  
"Yeah, but I wanted to try out for the Quidditch team this year," Ron said unhappily. He ran his hand through his hair.  
  
"Wha's stopping you?"  
  
"How am I supposed to do all this stuff? I'll never find the time! I'll never be able to do it all," Ron sounded close to despair.  
  
"Sure you can," Harry advised. "You jus' need' t'organize'. Ask H'mione."  
  
"You think she'd help?"  
  
"I think Hermione has already planned our entire fifth year," Harry said.  
  
Ron snorted. "Think she's scheduled any time for us to get into trouble?"  
  
"She'd better have, or her whole timetable's going to be out of whack," Harry murmured. He must have fallen asleep then, because he didn't remember Ron's response.  
  
  
Hagrid Drops By:  
The drawback to being a Honey Badger was paperwork. Ron had spent half an hour or more filling out a report about Harry's brief bout of consciousness, mentioning the fact that he'd been coherent and could remember what had happened.   
  
There was a knock on the door. Ron pulled his wand. "Who's there?" he asked.  
  
"Hagrid."  
  
"What did you buy Harry that first time you took him to Diagon Alley?"  
  
"Ice cream an' an owl," Hagrid replied.  
  
"Doesn't sound appetizing," Ron said, opening the door. It was a token challenge, really. Madame Handwerker had the wing effectively sealed off. Not only were there Aurors posted around the hospital, this wing was guarded by Madam Handwerker's trusty golems. (The golems had been created by her late husband, who specialized in creating clay golems for bodyguards. Only Madame Handwerker knew the secret word that controlled these creatures.)  
  
"They wasn't together!" Hagrid growled as he lumbered in. The groundskeeper looked even bigger inside and he didn't look very comfortable, either. He ruffled Ron's hair in passing.  
  
Ron sighed, but consoled himself with the thought that Hagrid was one of the _very_ few people who could actually do that anymore.  
  
"How's he doing?" Hagrid rumbled.  
  
"He was awake for a few minutes," Ron said. "He seemed to understand what was going on, too."  
  
"I wish I did," Hagrid said glumly. He shivered. "It's so col' in here. I don' unnerstan' why Miss Helga would put him in here." He went over to the bed. "You sure he's warm enough?" He reached down and tucked Harry's blanket around the boy's chin.  
  
"The bed has a warming charm, and so do the blankets. Even the pillows have warming charms," Ron assured him. "I just checked them."  
  
Harry sighed and stirred.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Ron asked. "You get any sleep?"  
  
"I napped a bit," Hagrid said. "I bin too worried." He ran his finger through Harry's hair.  
  
"Mmph," Harry murmured.  
  
"You should try to get some sleep," Ron advised.  
  
"Yeh're gettin' into this Mediwizard business, ain't cha?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said. "I think I might like to, y'know, take a shot at getting a full apprenticeship."  
  
"Yeh'd be good at it," Hagrid said. "Yeh're quick and yeh've got a kind heart."  
  
"I think it'll take more than that to get into the program," Ron said. "I need good marks, too."  
  
"Yeh can do it," Hagrid said encouragingly.  
  
"That's what Harry said, too," Ron said. "He didn't even blink when I said I wanted to be one. I don't get it, I mean, I'm not exactly a Ravenclaw."  
  
"Yeh don' have to be," Hagrid said. "Lotsa Hufflepuffs go inter medicine. "An' some o' the best chirugeons in the business are Slytherin, if yeh can believe it."  
  
"You're kidding," Ron said.   
  
"Makes sense," a low murmur made them both jump. "Got t' be cold-blooded to cut somebody open."  
  
"Sorry, Harry," Hagrid said. "Din' mean ter wake you."  
  
"S'alright," Harry rubbed his eyes. "Was worried 'bout you."  
  
"Yeh're the one who was sick," Hagrid said fondly. He smoothed back Harry's fringe. "I'm alrigh', I bin through worse."  
  
"So've I," Harry said. He shivered a little.  
  
Ron moved over and tweaked his heating charms.   
  
"You can use a wand?" Harry asked, waking up a little more.  
  
"Yeah, another perk of being a Honey Badger," Ron said.  
  
"A what?" Harry asked.  
  
"Honey Badger," Ron said. "That's what Mediwizard Apprentice's are called," he said, rather defensively.   
  
"Oh."  
  
"There's gotta be a better place to put you," Hagrid said, frowning. "Ain't like Miss Helga to be so…"  
  
"Cold?" Ron suggested.  
  
"Yeah," Hagrid mumbled. He looked as unhappy as Ron felt. "She's usually like her dad."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry said. He squinted up at them.  
  
"I told you that you were put in the Haunted Wing," Ron said. "Remember?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Madam Handwerker said that this wing isn't used by anybody, so it's better for security. She also said that anybody who's spent four years at Hogwarts isn't going to be bothered by a ghost. She also said that you, in particular, weren't going to be troubled by this ghost."  
  
"I…" Then Harry remembered. He sat up so abruptly the others jumped. "The ghost! I met him last night. Did Madam Handwerker tell you who the ghost was?"  
  
Ron and Hagrid exchanged blank looks.  
  
"It's my grandfather, Tiberius Potter!" Harry said excitedly. "He's the first Potter I've ever met!"  
  
Ron felt a surge of relief. His heroine hadn't let him down after all.  
  
"Ha!" Hagrid said happily, clapping his hands together. "I knew she had to have a good reason! Jus' like her dad, she is."  
  
"Who's her father?" Harry asked, earning incredulous looks from Ron and Hagrid. Harry sighed loudly. "Look, pretend I just Flooed into the wizarding world from some boot cupboard four years ago, okay? So, who's Madam Handwerker's father?"  
  
Ron grinned. "Albus Dumbledore."  
  
  
Rupert and the Girls:  
Rupert Granger was easily amused, he freely admitted that. He stood in the corridor listening to the argument with, he hoped, carefully concealed delight.   
  
"He needs a healthy drink. How about some nice _Vegameatavitamin Juice_?"  
  
"Oh, please, nice and Vegameatavitamin juice are mutually exclusive. That stuff should be classed as an Unforgivable drink! What he needs is something tasty, like a _Skrewt Soda. _It's a Blast!"  
  
"He needs something to make him feel _better_, you idiot. That stuff is pure poison!"  
  
Rupert did his best to control his face, but it wasn't easy. He'd heard vendors arguing with each other before, but this was the first time he'd ever heard vending machines argue with each other. "Well, I'm afraid I don't have any change on me," he managed to say. That was true enough. Besides, nothing either machine had offered him sounded remotely palatable.  
  
"Oh," the Health Food Machine said. "The Change Machine can help you with that. She can give you some money and it will be charged against your room. Just down the aisle to your right."  
  
"You forgot to mention he has to step into the privacy booth," the Junk Food Machine said snidely. "You also forgot to mention that asking the Change Machine for money is a no-interest loan."  
  
"He's not a child. He doesn't need me to explain the obvious," the Health Food Machine sneered.  
  
Rupert moved off as the Junk Food Machine answered, "Good, then I don't need to tell him you're three ants short of a picnic!"  
  
"Oh, they're always like that," the Change Machine informed him when he asked. "Madam Handwerker put them together because they aren't happy without somebody to argue with. She decided it was better that they argue with each other than the patients. Take my advice; continue down the hall to the regular Soda Machine. Sody has bottled pumpkin juice, Pumpkin Fizz, Pomegranate Pop and Sparkling Rose Water. Besides, she's next to the machine with the Chocolate Frogspawn and Sugar Down."  
  
"Chocolate Frogspawn and Sugar Down?" Rupert asked.  
  
"Scaled down versions of Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills," the Change Machine informed him. "They're made to fit into those little boxes in vending machines."  
  
That didn't tell him anything, but Rupert ventured farther down the hall on his quest for a drink. He heard familiar voices and realized he was headed for the exit to the Haunted Wing.  
  
"It's freezing in here," his wife's said. "Are you sure this is the right place?"  
  
"That's what the guard said," his daughter's voice replied. "Ginny, is St. Mungo's usually this heavily guarded?"  
  
"I don't think so," Ginny Weasley sounded uneasy.  
  
"Emma? Hermione?" Rupert called as he walked around the corner and into the arms of his family.  
  
"Dad! You're all right!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"Rupert! We were so worried!" Emma said, hugging him fiercely.  
  
"It's all right," Rupert soothed. "I didn't even get the worst of it."  
  
"Worst of what?" Emma asked.  
  
"If you didn't, who did?" Hermione demanded, with a worried frown.  
  
"Harry," Ginny guessed. Her face went pale.   
  
"He'll be all right," Rupert said hastily.  
  
Hermione went white, also.  
  
"What happened?" she asked.  
  
"I think we'd better sit down somewhere and discuss this," Rupert said. "I was just going to get some refreshments from the vending machine. Would you like something? Ginny, do you have to call your parents or something?"  
  
Ginny shook her head. "My brother Percy picked us up," she said. "He didn't say anything about Harry. I guess he thought we already knew."  
  
"Rupert, dear," Emma said in icy tones.  
  
Rupert frowned, unable to fathom what had angered her.  
  
"I asked you 'The worst of what?" Emma went on.  
  
"Well, it was a magical attack, of sorts," Rupert explained.  
  
"So, how is it that you and I didn't wind up in Dumbledore's office?"  
  
Rupert blinked at her a few times.  
  
"Dad? Why didn't your Watch Out activate?" Hermione prompted.  
  
"Erm, because I wasn't wearing it?" Rupert confessed shame-facedly.  
  
"RUPERT!"  
  
"I'm sorry, I left the house at two o'clock in the morning and I didn't think of it!"  
  
"DAD!"  
  
Ginny fidgeted with the bandage on her right hand. She didn't want to get involved in another family argument.   
  
"Girls, not in front of our guest," Rupert admonished. "Come along, we need to sit down and discuss this."  
  
  
Harry's Doctor:  
Hagrid was filling Ron and Harry in on all the gossip. From him, that meant the doings of the inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest.   
  
"Firenze was askin' about yeh," Hagrid said to Harry. "He said he was sorry that the other centaurs were such gits when you was in the forest." To Ron he said. "Yer dad's car is causing havoc among the Acromantulas."  
  
"Good," Ron said happily.  
  
"Firenze likes it, though. He says it's a good listener," Hagrid said with a grin.  
  
Harry frowned. "Doesn't Firenze have anybody else to talk to? Is he in bad with the other centaurs because he helped me?" he asked unhappily.  
  
"Firenze is in bad with the others 'cos he's Firenze," Hagrid said solemnly. "He's a bit like yeh, Harry. He can' just sit back and do nuthin'. The other centaurs don' like to get involved. It ain't yer fault, Harry, so stop thinkin' that right now."  
  
"Give it up, Hagrid," Ron advised gloomily. "Harry can blame himself for Monday mornings, rainy weekends and… ?" He looked at Harry.  
  
Harry obliged him. "The entire month of February," he supplied with a faint smile. He shivered again.  
  
Ron's grin faded. He looked at his wand. "I must not be doing the heating charm right," he said unhappily.   
  
"Sometimes a heatin' charm jus' don' help," Hagrid said comfortingly. "Mebbe another blanket would help."  
  
"There's a cloak in my mum's trunk," Harry said, pointing to the rose embossed trunk.  
  
"This was yer mum's?" Hagrid said in delight. "I though' it looked familiar. What's in there?"  
  
"Sheets, pillows, a tablecloth, and a bunch of Christmas cards," Harry said. "My dad's cloak is in there, too."  
  
Harry grinned as he watched Ron try to open the trick trunk. Ron gave him a dirty look, but figured it out pretty quickly. "Well, if it doesn't open from the front, then it must open from the rear," he explained to Hagrid.  
  
"I dunno if I would've thought of that," Hagrid said.   
  
Ron grinned. "I figure anything Potter can do, I can do, too!" he said smugly.  
  
James' cloak was on top. Harry had left it there when he got his mother's cloak out. Ron's face changed when he saw it.  
  
"What?" Harry asked worriedly.  
  
"This looks like the cloak someone gave Ginny a few days ago," Ron said. He looked at Harry speculatively and Harry squirmed.  
  
"Mum said that a 'friend of the family' sent it for Ginny," Ron continued. He gave Hagrid a sly look. "She also didn't insist that Ginny write a thank you note."  
  
Hagrid ran his hand over his beard. "That doesn' sound like yer mum," he said knowingly. "Bet she usually insists you kids write thank you notes all proper like."  
  
Ron grinned. "Yes, she usually does."  
  
"Oh, what makes you think they're related?" Harry asked faintly. "The cloaks, I mean."  
  
Ron draped the cloak over Harry's knees. "This kind of weaving isn't something you find on off the rack cloaks," he informed Harry. "Even I know this had to have been specially made. They probably bought them together."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Did you think that nobody would notice that you and Ginny were wearing twin cloaks?"  
  
"Actually, I hadn't planned on wearing that one," Harry confessed. "It's too big for me."  
  
"Why did you give your mother's cloak to Ginny?"  
  
Harry did his best to blush, but only managed a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks. "Well, I don't need two cloaks. And the other one was too short for me. Besides, it's a _girl's_ cloak!"  
  
"Methinks the boy protests overmuch," Hagrid chuckled.  
  
Harry stared. He never, _ever_ would have expected to hear Hagrid paraphrase Shakespeare.  
  
Ron laughed at his expression. "Shakespeare's big in the wizarding world," he said.   
  
"Why not say it was from yeh?" Hagrid wanted to know.  
  
Harry's blush improved. "Well, I didn't, you know," he floundered because he was having a hard time explaining this to himself.  
  
"He sent Ginny a cat, complete with cat carrier earlier this summer," Ron told Hagrid.  
  
Hagrid's beetle black eyes sparkled merrily. "An' here I was worried abou' you bein' lonely," he chortled.  
  
"Stop! It's not like that!" Harry protested.  
  
"What's it like, then?" Ron demanded.  
  
Harry was saved by a brisk knock on the door. A few minutes later, it opened to admit a grey-haired, stout woman wearing white Mediwizard robes and pince-nez glasses. She frowned disapprovingly when she saw Hagrid. "Rubeus," she said. "I thought I told you to get some rest."  
  
"I got some rest, Dr. Opal," Hagrid said defensively.  
  
Dr. Opal sighed dramatically. "I see that I shall have to be more specific. I want you to get at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep."  
  
She looked at Harry appraisingly. "I trust that _you_ have been getting plenty of sleep, Mr. Potter?" she said.  
  
"Yes, Doctor," Harry said meekly.  
  
"Good," Dr. Opal said. "I am Dr. Cressida Opal. I'm your doctor."  
  
"I thought Mr. Parkinson was his doctor," Ron said.  
  
"Mr. Parkinson is a _chirurgeon_. I am a pediatrician. I would have been looking after Harry for years if that medical marvel aunt of his had done her duty by him."  
  
"Medical marvel?" Harry wondered out loud.  
  
"There's no other way to explain how she's lived so long with no heart," Dr. Opal said. She looked at the cloak draped across Harry's knees and frowned. "You'll want to put your good cloak away, Mr. Potter. Weasley can get you some extra blankets." She scowled. "I told Helga that this wasn't a good place to keep you."   
  
Ron picked the cloak up and folded it neatly. "Where do you want it?" he asked.  
  
"In my school trunk, please," Harry answered. To Dr. Opal, he said, "Do you know why Madame Handwerker put me here?"  
  
"Yes," Dr. Opal said shortly. "She wants to make my life as difficult as possible."  
  
Ron snorted.  
  
"Did you say something, Wealsey?" Dr. Opal said, eyes narrowing.  
  
"I was just wondering what this pillow was doing in here?" Ron said. He pulled out the pillow in the green satin pillowcase.  
  
"I found that in my mum's trunk," Harry said.  
  
"It's nice," Ron said. "Here, you should use it." He added the pillow to Harry's bed.  
  
"Did you know that my grandfather haunts this wing, Dr. Opal?" Harry asked. He shifted around until the mountain of pillows behind him had settled into a comfortable pile.  
  
Dr. Opal nodded. "Yes, I used to work with Tiberius. I was at Hogwarts with him before that. That's one reason I seldom come into this wing. It would pain me to see his ghost."  
  
"Did you know my father?"  
  
"Mr. Potter, I helped _deliver_ your father. In fact, I helped your mother deliver you."  
  
Harry felt his blush reviving.  
  
"On your first birthday, your father sent me a bouquet of larkspur and a bottle of dandelion wine. I often wondered if he intended to make that a yearly tradition." Her voice trailed off.   
  
She studied Harry for a minute. "Your father took after your grandmother, Tatiana. That's where that awful hair came from." She indicated Harry's head. "At school, we used to call her Medusa." She paused. "I suppose that wasn't very nice of us, but teenagers have a tendency to think too highly of their own wit."  
  
"My grandfather came to see me last night," Harry said.  
  
Dr. Opal's eyes narrowed. "Did he? He's not supposed to. He drops the temperature even more than the average ghost, because of how he died. He isn't supposed to come near patients."  
  
"He said he couldn't stay long," Harry said wistfully. "Isn't there some way I could talk to him? I have so many questions."  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know of any way, especially in your condition." She paused. "Well, then, back to business. Weasley, your report?"  
  
Ron started at being addressed. He had been thinking of his own parents and grandparents, all of whom were very much alive. It was sad that Harry could only hear about his father through the ghost of his grandfather. He hastily grabbed the stack of papers he had been working on and handed it to Dr. Opal with some trepidation.  
  
Dr. Opal leafed through them briskly. "Excellent. You have a knack for conciseness without leaving out any pertinent information. I wish my other apprentices wrote this well."  
  
Ron blushed with pleasure.  
  
"Now, Weasley, Hagrid, you will have to step out of the room. I need to examine Mr. Potter. Hagrid, there's a hostel next door. I _suggest_ that you take a room. Mr. Weasley, I _suggest_ you take a few hours to get some food and sleep."  
  
She looked like McGonagall when she 'suggested' that her students pay attention in class.  
  
Ron and Hagrid allowed themselves to be ushered out of Harry's room. The last thing they heard was, "Now, there's no need to be shy, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Poor Harry," Hagrid said.  
  
"Telling him not to be shy is about as useful as telling him not to blame himself," Ron said.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Well, it's true…" Ron started before he realized that was definitely not Hagrid's voice. "Hermione! You're back!" He paused, not knowing if he should hug her or not. "Hello, Mrs. Granger," he said a minute later.  
  
"Hello, Ron," Ginny said dryly. "Remember me?"  
  
"Do I know you?" Ron teased.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "How could you forget!? We were introduced at the Ministry Yule Ball _just_ last year!"  
  
"How very awkward," Ron said, giving his sister a hug. "I must learn to hold my liquor better."  
  
Ginny giggled.  
  
"Hello, Hermione, Ginny," Hagrid said. He held his arms open and both girls threw their arms around him as far as they could go.  
  
"Hagrid, this is my mother, Mrs. Emma Granger," Hermione added. "You may remember meeting him in Diagon Alley a few years ago."  
  
"Actually, we wasn' introduced proper then," Hagrid said.   
  
Rupert looked a little embarrassed. Hermione didn't find out until later that he hadn't remembered seeing Hagrid before. Though how you could forget seeing somebody like Hagrid, she didn't know.  
  
"Hello, Hagrid," Emma said. "Hermione has told me so much about you that I feel I know you." She held out her hand with a slight tremor that might have been fatigue.  
  
"My pleasure, Missus," Hagrid said. He bowed gallantly over her hand, much the way Dumbledore had done.  
  
Emma giggled and blushed.  
  
"How's Harry?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Pretty good, under the circumstances," Ron said. "Dr. Opal is examining him now. We'll have to wait until she's finished."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Do you want to get cleaned up?" Ron asked. "There's a hostel next door where you can get a room."  
  
"That might be a good idea," Emma said gratefully.   
  
"Do you need a hand with anything? I have a few hours off," Ron said.  
  
"A few…? Ron, you're a Honey Badger?" Ginny exclaimed in delight. She fingered his new badge. "Mum and Dad must be so proud of you."  
  
Ron cleared his throat. He didn't want to talk about his new uniform in front of the Grangers. Hagrid wouldn't say anything even if he wondered about the uniform. Harry had noticed the uniform, but hadn't questioned where it had come from. Harry still wasn't familiar enough with the wizarding world for him to realize that a Honey Badger usually bought his own uniform. Ginny would know, of course, and she'd understand why the uniform was a sticking point with their parents.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at the bandage around Ginny's right hand. He interpreted the look she gave him as 'Don't ask,' so he didn't ask about it then. They were going to need to have a private chat, soon.  
  
"What's a Honey Badger?" Hermione asked.  
  
"C'mon and I'll tell you all about it," Ron said. He wouldn't say anything about the uniform. With any luck, Hermione wouldn't think to wonder who paid for it.  
  
  
Private Conversation:  
The Grangers wanted to have a family conference. Something about some protection that Dumbledore had given them. That suited Ron fine. He wanted to talk to Hermione, but first he wanted to fill in his sister about the Honey Badger uniform.  
  
"Where did you get the money for those? Did the twins buy them?" Ginny blurted as they sat down in the nurse's station in the Haunted Wing. There weren't any full-time nurses in this wing. Harry was the only patient.  
  
"Erm, no. Mr. Parkinson bought them," Ron said. "I told him that I wanted to keep an eye on Harry. So he offered to let me join the Honey Badgers. He said they were always short-handed and that if I would stay on after Harry left, he'd make all the arrangements, including getting me a uniform."  
  
"Mr. Parkinson? You mean, Pansy's father? The bloke Dad doesn't like?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was Dad very upset when you accepted?"  
  
"He, well, he wasn't happy, neither was Mum, but they let me accept," Ron said. "You know, because it's to help Harry and all."  
  
Ginny made a wry face. "Of course, the fact that it made you happy was entirely immaterial to their decision."  
  
Ron scowled at her.  
  
"Honestly, Ron, you know they love you," Ginny said.  
  
"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron demanded.  
  
"Dad and Mum swallowed their pride so _you_ would be happy," Ginny spelled out patiently.  
  
Ron squirmed. "How would you know? You weren't there! And what happened to your hand?"  
  
Ginny bit her lip and blushed. "I hit Viktor."  
  
Ron almost choked.  
  
"Please don't tell Harry!"  
  
"Does Hermione know?"  
  
"Well, yes," Ginny admitted.  
  
"Then Harry will know soon enough," Ron snickered.  
  
Ginny sighed.  
  
"Why did you hit Vicky, anyway?" Ron asked.  
  
"Oh, stop calling him that!"  
  
"I will if you tell me," Ron said with a wicked grin.  
  
"That's blackmail," Ginny said.  
  
"Actually, it's extortion," Ron corrected. "It would be blackmail if I said I wouldn't tell Harry how you hurt your hand if you tell me why you hurt your hand."  
  
Ginny blinked at the rather convoluted sentence. Then she said, "You sound like Hermione."  
  
Ron scowled. "She must be rubbing off on me. Stop trying to distract me, spill!"  
  
"Okay, while we were there, everybody we met wanted to talk about Harry!"  
  
Ron snickered. "Serves the lech right!"  
  
"One time, I caught Viktor sulking and asked him if he was all right. He said he was tired about Hermione always talking about Harry. I told him that Harry and Hermione weren't an item, but he just scowled. I asked why he wasn't jealous of you and Hermione and he said that he was only worried about romantic rivals."  
  
"And you hit him!"  
  
"Well, yes, the way he said it made it sound like he didn't think you were good enough for Hermione!" Ginny burst out. She picked at her bandage. "One of Viktor's uncles fixed my hand up. He wasn't as good as Madam Pomfrey, though. I'll have to keep it wrapped up for another week."  
  
Ron patted her unbandaged hand. "And I was worried about me starting a fight," he said teasingly.   
  
Ginny could tell that Ron was pleased that she had defended his honor, or maybe he was just pleased that somebody had hit Viktor.  
  
"What did the others say?" Ron asked.  
  
"Erm, Viktor told them that his bad English was at fault and they let it drop." Ginny made a face. "It was his way of apologizing for appearing to insult my family. His brother stopped flirting with me after that, though."  
  
"His brother was flirting with you?" Ron asked darkly.  
  
"Yes, is there a problem with that?"  
  
"I was going to try to fix you up with Harry," Ron said.  
  
"That doesn't mean that Viktor's brother can't flirt with me a little!" Ginny said in exasperation. "Besides, he stopped when he got a glimpse of the old Weasley temper.  
  
"Well, he shouldn't have," Ron muttered.  
  
Ginny decided to drop the subject, so she never found out if Ron meant that Foma shouldn't have flirted or shouldn't have stopped flirting.  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments, then they heard a thunking noise coming from the corridor that lead to the rest of the hospital.  
  
Ron motioned for Ginny to get under the desk at the nurse's station. Ron casually leaned casually against the counter, concealing the wand he had just drawn.  
  
The door from the corridor swung open and Mad-Eye Moody stomped in. He stopped when he saw Ron and his face contorted into a smile. "Good! You remembered to practice your constant vigilance, Weasley!" Alastor Moody said by way of greeting. "Good wand positioning, by the way. You could have fired off a curse before I had time to react to your presence. You can come out from under the desk, Miss Weasley."  
  
Ron grinned. "Professor Moody!" he said happily.  
  
"I'm not a professor anymore," Moody said. "Just Moody, if you please."  
  
"Oh, sorry," it was hard to remember that this wasn't the man who'd taught them Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year.  
  
Moody held his hand out for Ginny to take. "Good reflexes there," he said. "That was a very neat ambush you two set up."  
  
"Thanks," Ginny said. "What are you doing here? Are you here to see Harry?"  
  
"Actually, I'm here to talk to you two," Moody said. "Your father said you were here. I need to know if the twins told you anything about their windfall."  
  
Ron and Ginny exchanged looks.  
  
"They never talked to us about it," Ron said.  
  
"You know them better than anybody," Moody said quietly. "Do you have any idea who their backer is?"  
  
Ron and Ginny exchanged another look.  
  
"I don't want you to betray anybody's confidence, but this could be serious. If your brothers get in with the wrong sort of people, there could be grave consequences. They could wind up in debt to a dark wizard, maybe even one of You-Know-Who's followers."  
  
"Fred and George wouldn't side with You-Know-Who!" blurted Ron. "They'd never, I mean…" he trailed off. Saying that the twins would never do anything wrong was like saying Harry never got into trouble. "I mean, I know they're always messing around, but there's a big difference between playing pranks and becoming a Death Eater!"  
  
"I know that, lad," Moody said gruffly. "But a lot of people get pulled into the dark side by accepting favors from the wrong person. Anybody could turn out to be in Voldemort's pocket. Even Fudge isn't above suspicion," he added darkly.  
  
"_Harry_ would never work for Voldemort!" Ginny burst out.  
  
Ron looked at her sharply. Had Harry told her or had she worked it out like he had?  
  
"Yes, Missy, I have to admit, even I would have a hard time suspecting the Boy-Who-Lived of working for Voldemort," Moody said. "However, we aren't talking about Potter…"   
  
Something in their faces made him trail off.  
  
"… Or are we?" Moody said.  
  
Ron felt his face heating up and saw Ginny blush as well. Some Unmentionables they'd make! Ron thought bitterly. "Harry never said that he gave them the money," Ron blurted out unhappily.  
  
"But you think he might have?" Moody asked.  
  
"I dunno," Ron said, feeling like he'd just betrayed his best friend. Not that Harry had asked him to keep it a secret or anything.   
  
"I see, thank you for your time, then," Moody nodded at them. As he stood, he added, "Don't go thinking you betrayed your friend, if Potter is the backer, then he hasn't done anything wrong for you to betray." They heard him clunking away.   
  
After the sounds died away, Ron checked the corridor to see if it was empty. Even though Moody wasn't his professor, Ron still felt like he was being tested. "Did Harry tell you?" he asked Ginny in a low voice.  
  
Ginny shook her head. "I'm just guessing," she replied. "I have no idea where he would have got the money. He doesn't carry around that much, does he?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "I reckon it was the purse from the Tri-Wizard Tournament," he said.  
  
"Oh," Ginny sighed. "I think we shouldn't ask him about it. He'll tell us if he wants us to know." She frowned unhappily. "He'll tell you, anyway."  
  
Ron patted her shoulder. "Look, Ginny, I can't tell you other people's secrets, but I'm going to suggest that you be included. I think you should know this stuff."  
  
  
Trunk Space  
  
A few days later, Harry was feeling much better and Dr. Opal decided to let his guests stay for more than a few minutes. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were visiting when the presents started arriving.  
  
"Flowers?" Ron chortled when Nurse Olivia Guppy delivered the first arrival. "Harry's got a girlfriend! Harry's got a girlfriend!"  
  
"I do not!" Harry said crossly.  
  
"Oh, so it's a boyfriend, then?"  
  
Harry threw one of his hospital pillows at Ron.  
  
Ron caught it. "Hey!"  
  
"Hay is for horses," Harry said. "Watch it or I'll throw the warming pan at you next."  
  
"What an ingrate!" Ron said. "After I went and filled it with nice coals to keep your ickle tootsies warm."  
  
"Who sent the flowers?" Hermione asked hastily.  
  
"You didn't?" Harry asked. "I thought it was probably from you or your mum."  
  
"Why would Hermione send you flowers?" Ron demanded.  
  
"Because that's what you're supposed to send people in the hospital," Hermione said. In a drier tone, she added, "Especially people who aren't allowed to buy candy. It isn't necessarily an act of _courtship_, Ron. So, what does the note say?"  
  
Ron scowled at her, and then plucked the note from the flowers before Harry could.  
  
"Hey!" Harry protested.  
  
"Hay is for horses," Ron said, a trifle smugly. He read the letter. "_Dear Harry_," ("How original!") "_I hope that you're feeling better soon_." ("No, he was planning to stay sick until September first.") "_I'm looking forward to seeing you at school, especially if there's another Yule Ball._" ("Make that until January first.") "_Sincerely, Parvati_"   
  
"Give me that," Harry said, snatching the note from Ron's hand. He read it over himself.  
  
"Say, girls, does it mean something if there is a little heart over the 'i' in her name?" Ron asked with malicious glee.  
  
"Parvati always signs her name that way," Hermione said calmly. "That's not necessarily a courtship gesture, either."  
  
"Looks like she's forgiven you for that Yule Ball disaster, Harry," Ginny said slyly. She was determined not to show any signs of jealousy. It would be pointless when Harry hadn't shown signs of interest in her. Besides, what red-haired Weasley could pass up the opportunity to tease somebody about his love life?  
  
"Ginny has something for you, too," Hermione said.  
  
Ginny felt a blush coming on. "It's something I learned to do in Bulgaria," she said. "Viktor's grandmother loves to knit and she was showing me a few tricks." She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue wrapped package. She was rather embarrassed, but if Hermione thought it was worth giving to Harry, she might as well go ahead with it.  
  
"Why is your hand bandaged?" Harry asked.  
  
"Erm, I hurt it," Ginny said in a tone that strongly suggested that the topic should be dropped.  
  
Harry blinked at her. Then decided not to pursue that topic and unwrapped his package. Inside was a palm sized red cat with yellow paws made of some knitted material. For a moment, he wondered how Ginny had learned of his Animagus form. Then he realized that she had made the cat in Gryffindor colors. "Thank you!" he said. "You made this?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny said happily. "It's a knitten kitten!"  
  
"Knitten isn't a word," Hermione said, with a slight frown.  
  
"Come on, Hermione, don't be such a stuffed shirt!" Ron said. "It's a cute Knitten Kitten, whose name is Mitten!"  
  
Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes and sighed, "Only in Britain."   
  
Ginny and Harry laughed.   
  
Ginny looked at Harry anxiously. "Do you like it?"  
  
Harry looked at her solemnly. "Very much, in fact," he grinned suddenly. "I'm smitten."  
  
Ron and Hermione hooted and Ron threw Harry's pillow.  
  
"I have something for you, too," Hermione announced. "It's actually your birthday present, but I guess you might as well get it early." She pulled two brightly wrapped boxes out of a shopping bag she had placed next to her chair when she arrived.  
  
"Wow! Thanks," Harry said. He pulled the wrapping off the first one. "Cool, a jigsaw puzzle."  
  
"It's not just any jigsaw puzzle," Hermione said with a malicious grin. "It's a _wizarding_ jigsaw puzzle."  
  
Harry gave her a blank look. Then his eyes went wide when he caught the implication. Wizarding photographs moved, so that meant that a wizarding jigsaw puzzle… He looked closely at the picture. Sure enough, the Quidditch players on the first puzzle were zooming around the pitch tossing the Quaffle back and forth.  
  
"That's a brilliant one," Ron said enthusiastically. "When you get it put together right, the Seeker catches the Snitch!"  
  
The other puzzle had a picture of a fountain on it.  
  
Harry frowned. "What does this do?" It seemed like a boring puzzle to him, but Hermione usually had a reason for what she did.  
  
Ron laughed. "Don't tell him," he warned the others. "Let him find out for himself."  
  
Harry gave Ron a beady look, but didn't say anything. "Let's try it out," he said. He looked around for a place to lay out the puzzle.  
  
"Erm, my present for you is at home," Ron said awkwardly.   
  
"That's okay," Harry said. He wondered if Ron had even bought him a present yet. Not that it mattered. His birthday was still a few days away. "It would be nice to get a present _on_ my birthday. Hagrid gave me his early, too."   
  
Ron picked up Lily's trunk. "Here, this should work."  
  
"Oo, that's pretty!" Ginny exclaimed.  
  
"Is that your mother's trunk?" Hermione asked.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Lucky," Ginny said. She ran a finger across the embossed roses and eagles. "All I found was a bunch of junk and a nasty cloak."  
  
Harry looked at the cloak she was wearing.  
  
"Oh, this isn't the Hunting Cloak that I found, silly! That was red!" Ginny stroked the soft material of her new cloak. "This is a hand-me-down from some friend of the family."  
  
Harry couldn't help noticing how…. NICE… Ginny looked in his mum's cloak. It had been a good idea to give it to her. Now, if he could only keep Ron from giving him away. "It's pretty," he said.  
  
Ron grinned. "And look at the lining!" he said. "It's a nice, non-Slytherin green that, by strange coincidence, is exactly the same color as _your eyes_, Harry!"  
  
Harry turned Gryffindor red.  
  
"Ron!" Ginny protested. "I didn't choose this cloak! You were _there_ when Mum gave it to me!"  
  
Hermione looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow. Harry was glad that he was already blushing, because otherwise he'd have given himself away. He decided this was a good time to change the subject. "You want to see what else is in here?" he asked, not realizing he'd all but admitted that the cloak had come from his mum's trunk. He was just trying to divert attention away from the green lining.  
  
He didn't see Hermione hold up her hand to hide a smile.  
  
Forgetting about the jigsaw puzzle for now, they arranged the trunk on two chairs so Harry could reach it easily. This left Ginny perched on the foot of Harry's bed and Ron seated on the floor. Harry was amused at how Ron's manipulations had ensured that Hermione got the only remaining chair.  
  
Wait, Ron's manipulations had _also_ ensured that Ginny would sit on the foot of his bed. Harry suspected that Ron was trying to fix him up with his little sister. Harry didn't dare look at Ginny, he wasn't sure he could fit any blood into his cheeks at the present.   
  
The second of the green satin pillows was on top. Harry took it out and explained. "These were pillowcases when I took them out the first time," he indicated the one he was leaning against. "But when I shook them; they turned into full sized pillows." He held the one from the trunk up. "Thing is, I don't know how to turn them back into pillowcases."  
  
"I'm sure there must something about these in the library," Hermione mused.  
  
"Don't look at me," Ron responded.  
  
"Honestly, Ron," sighed Ginny.  
  
"_What_?" Ron demanded.   
  
"If you ever listened to Mum, you'd know how to fold sham-pillows," Ginny said. She took the sham-pillow that was sitting on Harry's lap. "See, you just twist them like this," she said, while demonstrating. The sham-pillow folded neatly into a pillowcase.  
  
"Wow," Harry said, impressed. "How did you do that?"  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.   
  
"Hey, you can't expect me to have it figured out from one demonstration!" Harry protested. "Flitwick and McGonagall give several demonstrations before they have us try something."  
  
Ginny laughed. "Okay, like this then." She took the other sham-pillow from behind Harry's back and folded it.   
  
Now it was Hermione who wanted another demonstration and they spent several minutes fluffing and folding pillows. Both the girls really liked the rose-scented, rose-decorated pillows.  
  
"C'mon!" Ron said at last. "I want to see the good stuff, not the linens!"  
  
"Where should we put things as we take them out of the trunk?" Hermione asked. "We don't need more clutter!" she looked around the room. "How about in your other trunk?" she suggested.  
  
Harry, remembering the tell-tale cloak was on top, shook his head. "There's no room in there," he said. "Besides, I don't want this stuff getting mixed up in mine."  
  
"Oh," Hermione picked up her shopping bag. "Here, use this, then. We don't want those good sheets to get dirty."  
  
Harry privately thought that it wouldn't matter; the silk and satin sheets would never be used. However, he didn't want to argue with Hermione. "Here's the cool thing," he said, pulling out the spyglass.  
  
Ron promptly confiscated it. "Cool!" he said. "This will help keep an eye out for Filch!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione said scandalized. "You're not planning to break the school rules _already_, are you?"  
  
"I figured I didn't get the rule-breaking on the timetable now, I wouldn't get the chance later," Ron said blithely.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Well, have we gone for a full year yet without breaking curfew?" Ron demanded.  
  
Ginny's eyebrows went up. "Do tell," she urged.  
  
"No, I think this isn't the time," Hermione said, very pink in the face.  
  
"You weren't out snogging with my brother, were you?"  
  
Harry almost fell out of his bed laughing. "She's on to you!" he crowed.  
  
Ron and Hermione sent him twin Glares of Painful Death, but he didn't notice.  
  
"Well, first year we were trying to protect the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione said. "Second year…" she stopped abruptly and blushed.  
  
"I remember that year," Ginny said quietly. "Someday, I would like more details of what it was like for you three, but not now."  
  
"Third year most of the rule-breaking had to do with me sneaking into Hogsmeade without permission," Harry said. "Although we did sneak down to Hagrid's hut a few times."  
  
"You could have met Sirius Black," Ginny said, horrified.  
  
"I know," Harry said flatly, ending that line of discussion. He wanted to tell Ginny about Sirius, but he didn't have permission yet. "Fourth year there was a lot of sneaking around due to the Tri-Wizard tournament, also a bad topic for conversation. Shall we move on?"  
  
"How did you do all this sneaking?" Ginny wanted to know. "With the Invisibility Cloak?"  
  
The other three gaped at her.  
  
"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded.  
  
"Harry! I ransacked your room in my first year! I found it in your trunk. You really should have a better hiding place for it. What if Dumbledore finds out?"  
  
"Dumbledore is the one who gave it to me," Harry said. "It belonged to my father."  
  
"Oh, that explains a lot," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Can I see it?"  
  
"Later," Harry said. "I don't want to open my school trunk right now."  
  
"Why?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Because…" Harry trailed off.  
  
"You don't really want to see his dirty underwear, do you?" Ron teased. He felt very pleased with himself when both Hermione and Ginny blushed. He expected one of them to change the subject, fast.  
  
Ginny looked into Lily's trunk again. "So, what else is in here?" she asked.  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
"Christmas cards," Harry said. "I guess my mum had started them in October."  
  
"Doesn't everybody?" Hermione asked.  
  
"You are completely mental," Ron muttered.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never sent anybody a Christmas card in my life."  
  
"_Never_?" Hermione asked incredulously.  
  
"Well, who would I send one to?" Harry said defensively. "The Dursleys? They'd never even take it off the owl! And everybody I know is at Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, but closed it quickly. Harry wondered if she had considered mentioning Sirius. After a few minutes, Hermione said, "You could send one to Remus Lupin," she said. "I sent him one last year."  
  
Harry blinked. "Oh," he said. "I never even thought of sending him one."  
  
"Well, it's not like you were in the habit of sending people Christmas cards," Ginny said. She gave Hermione a disapproving look.  
  
Hermione looked abashed. "Sorry," she said.  
  
"That's okay," Harry said. "I don't know how you found time to write Christmas cards along with everything else you were doing."  
  
"It's all a matter of being organized," Hermione said.  
  
"Can we look at these Christmas cards?" Ron asked.  
  
"There's a bunch of them addressed already," Harry said. "I was wondering if I should have them delivered to the addressees. I mean, if they're still alive and if I can figure out who they are."  
  
"What do you mean, if you can figure out who they're for?" Ron asked.  
  
"Most of them are just addressed by first name and initial," Harry said. "Like Remus L."  
  
Hermione frowned. "That's not very efficient," she said.  
  
"Maybe she meant to hand them out by hand," Ginny said.   
  
"Or maybe she was going to finish addressing them later," Hermione added.  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"Maybe she was just…" Ron took a look at Harry's face and decided that maybe he shouldn't say that Lily was careless. "In a hurry, you know. She just wanted to make sure that everybody got a card. What else is in here?"  
  
The addressed cards went into the shopping bag. There was a stack of unaddressed Christmas cards that Harry tried to hide. He failed, and the others managed to snag one or two apiece.   
  
"Awwww! How cute!" Ginny exclaimed, holding up a card in either hand so she could examine them.  
  
"Damn, you were _ugly_," Ron said, studying his card.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "He was not! He was adorable!"  
  
Harry looked at Ginny and Hermione with frank disbelief. "You can't be serious," he said, gesturing to the cards. "That's the most hideous lump I've ever seen!"  
  
This set Ron off laughing again.  
  
"Oh, shut it, you," Hermione said to Ron. "Harry, you were a beautiful baby."  
  
Ron choked.  
  
It was Ginny's turn to laugh.  
  
"You-Are-Both-Mental," Harry asserted.  
  
Ron stuck his tongue out at Ginny and Hermione.  
  
Hermione sighed. "You-Are-Both-Im-Poss-I-Ble."  
  
"You just figured this out when?" Ron asked.  
  
"About five minutes after I asked you if you'd seen Neville's toad," Hermione said dryly.  
  
Harry grinned at her.  
  
"What else is in here?" Ron said, already bored with baby pictures. He pulled out the denim covered 'The Transfiguration Survival Guide,'" he read.  
  
"That is so cool," Harry said. "If you ask nicely, it will show you what kind of animal you'll turn into if you become an Animagus."  
  
"Wicked," Ron said. "Will you please show me what kind of animal I'd be if I turn into an Animagus?"  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Harry chuckled and Ron shot him a beady look. Ron flipped through the book and frowned in concentration.   
  
"He asked nicely," Hermione said. "So, why didn't it show him his Animagus form?"  
  
Ron shot her a sideways look. Then a grin blossomed across his face and he said. "Wait, I asked _politely_, I didn't ask _Nicely_." He closed the book again and said, "Nicely, will you please show me what my Animagus form would be?"  
  
The book sparkled and the title changed from The Transfiguration Survival Guide to The Animagus Survival Guide.   
  
Ron leaned his arms on Lily's trunk and began flipping through the Guide. "Wicked!" he said happily.  
  
"What is it?" Hermione asked.   
  
"What's your animal form?" Harry  
  
Suddenly, Ron was bathed in golden light from the book. The next thing any of them knew, a long-eared owl was sitting on the edge of Lily's trunk.  


** **

Author's Notes:   


I fixed the 'Hedwig's cage' glitch in the last chapter, thanks to everybody who pointed that out!  
  
Vegameatavitamin is from a classic episode of "I Love Lucy."  
  
  
  
Angel of the North: Thanks for the review! ** Hm, give Rupert his own story? Interesting idea.  
  
Lan: Thanks for the review! Yes, I am evil. Sorry about the cliffie! I did warn you that there were some left, I have one this time, too. It could have been worse, I could have left ended it just after that sphere blew up. ** Ah, but the next story does take place at Hogwarts. Can't pass up the chance to write some Quidditch.  
  
Taself: Thanks for the review! ** Glad that you like my take on Hermione's father! ** More on the golden sphere this time and next! ** I've heard of haunted hospitals, and I figured the only way Harry could talk to his ancestor would be to meet the ghost of an ancestor. I didn't want him to meet his parents that way, so the next logical choice was for him to meet a grandparent.  
  
lemon drop: Thanks for the review! ** I had fun writing the letters. I kept thinking of the internal comments, so I had to add them! ** I figure wizarding children probably eat sugary cereals just like Muggle children.  
  
Bucky: Thanks for the review! We're starting in on the romance parts now. It's easier when I can put Harry and Ginny in the same room! ** Yes, Ginny has plans for getting some 'face to face' interaction. ;-)  
  
Bob: Thanks for the review! And thanks for pointing out my mistake about the cage! (That's why Harry forgot it, he didn't have it any more! I'll have to put that in the chapter.) *blushes* ** Thanks, Yeah, Petunia can be quite blind to her own faults, can't she? ** I always thought it was sad that Harry could get better treatment from people off the street (like the strangers he saw in Book One) than he could get from his own family.  
  
Temporary Insanity: Thanks for reviewing! ** The 'sheer luck nobody was killed' line was to assure everybody that Harry, Rupert and Hagrid were all still alive. Ron's comment about "luck, nothing, Harry's just too damn…" meant that it wasn't luck but stubbornness that kept Harry alive.   
  
Lilia: Thanks for the review! ** How do I come up with this stuff? I have too much time to think while I'm sitting in traffic jams. I wanted Harry to meet one of his relatives and this was the only way I could think of to swing it. ** Viktor Krum is under the misapprehension that he is Hermione's boyfriend. Poor guy, he needs to meet somebody else.  
  
Ozma: Thanks for reviewing, partner! ** Yep, I was deliberately drawing a parallel between Viktor's jealousy Ron's jealousy. Hermione really never expected to attract all this male attention! ** I don't think Ginny will have time to find out that Foma = Thomas. ** grins Yeah, poor Viktor, hard to pay court to a girl when you have that big an audience! ** I wouldn't be surprised if Bob painted the living room because he was lonely. Say hello to Bob and the boys for me! ** I think Ron can be level headed in a crisis. And I like the idea of using things the kids learned from the likes of Trelawney and Quirrel. ** Sirius will take great delight in telling Harry about all the times he burped up on James. ** Thanks! I'd forgotten that Rupert and Hagrid were in the book shop at the same time. Still, it's different to see him up close! ** Thanks for letting me know which parts you found funny or touching! ** I just wanted to show some Slytherins as having a good side. ** I knew you'd recognize Tiberius!   
  
Sailor Chibi: Thanks for the review! ** Noticing details is a good thing! ** More on the golden sphere this time and next time!  
  
Doom Song: Thanks for the review! And thanks for putting me on your favorites list! That is so flattering!  
  
Markhp: Thanks for the review! And thanks for the kind words on my changing the Points of View! ** I'll continue this story, heck, it's pretty much taken over my life right now!  
  
Crazyfriendsfan: Thank you for the kind words!   
  
Squintz: Yeah, it does seem to be silly to be afraid of a number, or a name. Besides, how could I really be triskaidekaphobic when one of my biggest fans is Andrea13? ** Thanks for the review! Glad chapter sixteen lived up to your expectations!   
  
Little House Girl: Thank you for the review!  
  
MoNmOn: Thanks for the review! ** I try to mix in a little humor to keep things from getting too grim. ** "Holy wow", I like that phrase, may I use it somewhere?  
  
Rhiain: Thanks for the compliments! ** Sorry the ghost confused you. Basically, in my version of the Potterverse, Harry's grandfather, Tiberius Potter, was murdered while he was trying to protect his patients. I wrote about this in "As-Sorted Marauders" and decided to use it in this story, too.  
  
The Queen of Fire and Ice: Thanks for the review! ** Sorry about the cliffie last time and for the cliffie this time. I did think to put in a warning, this time.  
  
Lemon Drop: Hello, again! And thanks for all the kind words on my work! I'm glad you think the next chapter is worth waiting for! ** No, the gold thing wasn't a watch out. Thanks for the compliment on that name. Once I'd thought of it, I knew I was going to have to use it! ** The Dursley chose not to know that something was wrong with Harry. If they knew, then they'd have to do something about it. ** I try to write like Rowling – that is, I try to put a lot into my stories so that it's hard to catch everything the first time around.  
  
whoever I am at the moment: Thanks for the review! ** I figure if the Dursleys are Harry's only living relatives, the only others he'd be able to talk to are ghosts. ** I'm guessing that Viktor has siblings. Seemed a reasonable thing for him to have. ** I think the Weasleys have noticed the rapid exchange of owls between Harry and Ginny. ** Yes. ** No. ** Oops, I forgot to fix Chapter two. ** Happy to give you a break from cleaning the kitchen.  
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse: Poor Viktor. Somebody should create a nice girlfriend for him. Somebody who isn't Hermione. ** I think poor Foma is out of his league. ** Yes, I named Rupert after the actor who plays Ron and Emma after the actress that plays Hermione. It seemed like the thing to do. ** I like the idea of the Dursleys seeing witches and wizards everywhere, even where there aren't any! Nah, death is too good for them, they should wind up in an insane asylum. Except for maybe Dudley. He might turn into a decent human being in spite of his parents. (Or maybe to spite his parents.) They've put him in serious jeopardy of diabetes, among other nasty diseases. ** I mention James' father in my "As-Sorted Marauders" story (shameless plug.) ** I try to put something educational in my stories! All that reading has to be good for something!  
  
Andrea13: Thanks for the review! ** I almost did leave it at the explosion, but I decided to push on to the happier cliff-hanger of Tiberius Potter. ** Poor Viktor, all he wanted was a chance to pitch some woo and he got pre-empted! ** Thanks for telling me your favorite lines! You picked some of my favorites!   
  
Hpforever: Thanks for the review! Don't look at it as this story ending, look at is as the next story beginning! The trouble with a summer story is that there's no Quidditch! No 'face-to-face' interaction! No fun arguments between Ron and Hermione!   
  
Female Fred: Thanks for the compliments!  
  
Punkin and Aimee: Thanks for the review! And thanks for telling me the parts that you particularly liked! Don't worry, Rupert's all right. ** I like your reviewing style, it's very energetic! ** Glad you like my take on Neville, Pansy and Millicent! ** Hi, Aimee! I am very flattered that you like my story, even if it doesn't have your preferred ship! ** I hope the finals go well/ went well.  
  
Chocolate Muse: Thanks for reviewing! ** Tiberius was the name of a Roman Emperor. It's something of an in joke. In the original Star Trek series, the captain of the Enterprise was James Tiberius Kirk. When I tried to think of a middle name for Harry's father, James and Tiberius just went together in my mind. And since Harry has his father's name as his middle name, I decided that James was the named the same way, so Tiberius became his father's name. (There! More than you wanted to know about my thought processes!)  
  
Von: Thanks for reviewing! Glad I sold you on the cat idea! ** Yes, Harry calling at that time of the morning (or at all, really) was a bit out of character. However, I thought I set it up. The Grangers did invite him to call at any hour. (When the phone rang, Rupert even thought that there was one person who had been invited to call at any time.) Harry doesn't want to bother people with his problems, unless he thinks there's something seriously wrong. Rupert happened to hear Harry have an attack because Harry called when he was feeling especially bad. ** Yes, the card was the final catalyst as far as he was concerned. He thought Rupert might be worried about his wife and daughter. ** Thanks! Glad you liked the part with poor Viktor! He seemed like a decent sort in the book, it's not his fault he's fallen for the wrong girl!   
  
Eris, Queen of the Shadows: Yep, the woodsman was okay! (I should write up that version of Little Red Riding Hood someday.) ** Thanks for reviewing! Glad you like my take on Hermione's father!  
  
pegoheart144: Thanks for the review! ** Glad you like the slow build up of the Harry/ Ginny relationship! ** To answer your questions: Yes, sort of, yes.  
  
Alla: Thanks for the review! ** The thing that hurt him is explained here! ** Yes, Rupert and Harry make an interesting team, don't they? ** Yeah, poor Viktor. He's going to have Hermione stolen from him by somebody he didn't even notice. ** Yep, Harry finally gets to meet a non-Dursley relative. ** Thanks! I keep thinking there has to be more to Slytherin House than Riddle, Snape and Malfoy.  
  
MaegnasEssenya: Thanks for reviewing! ** No, I don't think Hermione and Ginny are bisexual. They were just joking. It may have been a wee bit of a stretch, but I don't think I violated canon too much with that. The Grangers seem to be very broad-minded. They let Hermione go to Hogwarts. They let her stay in Hogwarts even though she got petrified in her second year. They also let her stay with the Weasleys in Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire. Molly is probably very conservative, but she _was_ joking about love potions in Prisoner of Azkaban. So I don't think either Molly or the Grangers would get too upset about a _joke_ about alternate lifestyles.   
  
I decided to have Harry's Animagus form a cat because they ARE common. An unfamiliar cat wandering around Hogwarts or Hogsmeade or even the Dursleys' back yard isn't going to arouse much comment. (Unlike a lion or a gryphon or even a phoenix.) I think that Rowling is going to turn Harry into an Animagus, and I really doubt that she's going to make him into a cat. (My guess is that Harry is the Phoenix of the title.) ** That website about animals and personality traits sounds fascinating, what's the URL?  
  
Is that Elvish at the end of your review? What does it say?  
  
Amulder: Thanks for reviewing! Yes, I do try to heed constructive criticism when I can. ** Thanks for the compliments on Rupert's reactions to the Dursleys. I've wanted to contrast the nice Grangers with the nasty Dursleys for a long time. ** I'm not sure if Rowling plans to do anything more with Viktor, but I couldn't resist getting a jab in on Ron's behalf.  
  
sk8reagle: Hi! Thanks for coming over from GT to look at the rough draft! The versions here are somewhat different than they are at GT (and neither version is exactly like what's going up at SugarQuill. It's mostly minor corrections.)   
  
Chary: GACK! I forgot to update my blurb! Not your fault, it was my mistake. ** Thanks for reviewing! I'll be happy to review your next chapter! (Any time…) ** Thanks for the compliments on my take on Viktor! I didn't want to try to write the accent like Rowling does. I just wanted to get a flavor of it. ** Thanks, again, for the compliments on my handling of Rupert and Harry. Yes, I agree, Harry has this problem believing that anybody would want to help him. ** I would like to do a lot with Ron and his premonitions. I'm not sure if I'll do much with it in this story arc. (It seems to me that there is an awfully big gap between Charlie and Percy. I keep wondering if there was another son in there at one time. That would make Ron the seventh son. Considering the frequent comments about the size of Wealsey families, Arthur might well be the seventh son, too.) ** Thanks for the compliments on my Neville, Pansy and Millicent. I've known girls like Pansy and Millicent who are totally different when away from their cliques. ** I _meant_ for you (and the other readers) to miss that hint. That's why I threw out a distraction _immediately_ after dropping said hint. EG   
  
rosemary thyme: Thanks for reviewing! ** By the way, are you going to Scarborough fair?  
  
Amulder: Hello, again! Thanks for the double review! And thanks for pointing out the slip-up with Hedwig's cage! I'll fix that this time. You can see that Harry's situation has improved.  
  
Allison: Thanks for the nice review!  
  
Badgerlock: Thanks for the review! Glad you like the Watch Outs! ** I like your screen name. Is it related to Hufflepuff House or does it come from another source?   
  
Alla: Um, are you trying to tell me something? Don't be shy, now! ;-)  
  
Alina: Thanks for the review! Harry is pretty sick, but he isn't delirious at this point. ** It's still a few days before Harry's birthday. ** The cat business will be in the next story. ** I'm hoping to have this story finished by the end of April!  
  
DeeKay: Thanks for the review! And thanks for catching the cage error in the last chapter! It's been fixed. ** How can something round cause bleeding? I'm not sure, I can only speak from personal experience. I hit my head on a table that had rounded edges and I was bleeding so much that I needed stitches. (My father personally rounded the edges of that table so we wouldn't cut ourselves on it.) You are right, I should have had there be a bump on Harry's head. ** Good point about the Watch Out! I put that explanation in this time. You are an excellent Beta-reader!  
  
Miriam: Thanks for the review! ** Yes, poor Viktor is suffering from Harry-envy. He never seemed to notice Ron at all in the fourth book. I think Harry and Hermione became an item in his mind because he first really saw them when Ron was avoiding Harry. ** Yep, Rupert thinks he should have the old British stiff upper lip about things like being away from his wife for a few days. ** Thanks for letting me know which lines you particularly liked! ** I had a nice Easter, thank you!  
  
Harmoni: Thanks for the review! ** Yes, it was rather like a magical hand grenade.  
  



	18. The Survival Guide to…

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.  
  
**Chapter 18: The Survival Guide to…**

  
Ginny Weasley  
  
The long-eared owl flapped his wings and looked around in confusion. "Hoot!" said Ron.  
  
Ginny moved as fast as a striking snake and knocked the _Animagus Survival Guide_ away from owl-Ron and into Harry's lap. "Damn it, Harry! How could you be so _stupid_?"  
  
Harry pulled back as best he could. "Erm, Ginny?" he said.  
  
"Can't you tell this thing is filled with dark magic?" Ginny exclaimed. "It's _just_ like Riddle's diary! It's taken over Ron!"  
  
"I don't think it…" Harry said.  
  
"_Obviously_, you don't think!" Ginny whipped out a short rod from up her sleeve. At first Harry thought she'd pulled her wand. Then she twisted it and a sharp point appeared. Harry remembered what Ginny had written about the Sleepy Spindle. The twins had turned it into a weapon of some sort.   
  
"Look, book," Ginny snarled. "I've dealt with your kind before!"  
  
Ron noticed she didn't mention she'd lost the last time. He'd have said so, except he'd been turned into an owl, not a parrot. "Hoot," Ron said, just to confirm that he couldn't speak in English. Pity that Harry couldn't speak owl.  
  
"Turn my brother back into a human or I'll see if a Sleepy Spindle Spike affects nasty, magic books!" Ginny held the spike like a spear. It certainly looked sharp enough to go right through Nicely and into Harry.  
  
Harry looked at Hermione, but she was staring at the long-eared owl with wide eyes. She didn't look to be offering any help any time soon.  
  
"How did you do that, Ron?" Hermione blurted. "It takes months, sometimes _years_, of study to learn how to become an Animagus!"  
  
"Hoot!" said Ron. He puffed up his chest at Hermione's look of amazement.  
  
"He _didn't_ do it!" Ginny exclaimed. "The bloody _book_ did it. It turned Ron into an Animagus the way Riddle's diary turned me into a Parseltongue!" She flourished her spike again and Harry winced.  
  
"Erm, Ginny, you mind not waving that thing so close to my lap?" he asked querulously.   
  
The glare Ginny gave him made him cringe.  
  
"Hoot!" Ron said.  
  
"Didn't you learn _anything_ from what happened to me in the Chamber of Secrets?" Ginny asked.   
  
: _Now, don't do anything rash!_ : Nicely wrote. : _I didn't hurt Ron! I just showed him what his Animagus form will be!_ :  
  
"_You_ turned Ron into an owl?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"You're slow today," Ginny snarled.  
  
"I'VE BEEN SICK!" Harry bawled at her. "And will you _please_ point that thing somewhere _else_!"  
  
"Hoot!" said Ron.  
  
"Nicely, I don't think you're supposed to actually turn Ron into an owl," Harry said. "Didn't Sir… I mean, didn't you say that you'd get into trouble for turning me into a cat, that second time?"  
  
: _Oh. Right. My mistake_. :  
  
"Your Animagus form is a cat?" Hermione asked. She braced herself on Lily's trunk as she tried to get a better look at the Animagus Guide.  
  
"You got turned into a cat _twice_ and it didn't occur to you that this thing was _dangerous_!" Ginny howled. Her face was glowing red with anger and frustration.  
  
Harry was grateful that there wasn't anybody else in the wing or there would be a big crowd in their room right now. "I was turned back both times!" he said defensively.   
  
"Hoot," said Ron.  
  
: _I forgot I wasn't supposed to actually transfigure you._ :  
  
"Nicely, you're a _book_, how could you _forget_?" Harry yelped.  
  
: _The new instructions aren't in the pensieve yet_: Nicely explained.  
  
"Pensieve?" Ginny growled. "What pensieve? Where is this pensieve? Who owns it? Harry, why didn't you tell somebody? Why didn't you tell a responsible adult!?"  
  
"Personally, I would have thought that you would have become something more exotic than a cat," Hermione said thoughtfully. She rested her chin on her hand and stared at Nicely with a pensive expression on her face.  
  
"Why didn't _you_ put those instructions into the pensieve?" Harry asked, not wanting to answer Ginny's questions. He couldn't without possibly getting Remus into trouble. "Can't you update your own mind?"  
  
"Hoot," said Ron.  
  
"It didn't put the information into the Pensieve because it was too busy putting bits of itself into your and Ron's brains!" Ginny laid the point of her spike against Nicely's spine. "It was easy, considering how much _empty space_ there is in your skulls!"  
  
"You put a bit of _you_ in my _head_?" Harry asked.  
  
: _Yes. She is correct, that is how I turned you into a cat and Ron into an owl. I put the blueprint of the Animagus transformation directly into your mind. It's a form of thought transference. _ :  
  
"Cool. Too bad I can't get all my lessons implanted that way," Harry said.  
  
"Hoot!" said Ron.  
  
"A lion or a gryphon would have been appropriate for a Gryffindor," Hermione said. "Though I have to admit that you do have that whole _nine lives_ business down pat."  
  
Ginny shot her an incredulous look. It wasn't like Hermione to take dark magic so casually.  
  
"This is NOT funny! This is NOT cool!" she raged. She was about to explode from sheer nerves and the other three were acting like this was some sort of joke. She knelt on Harry's bed to give her more leverage for her big thrust. "You're enchanted Hermione, too!" she shrieked.   
  
: _I didn't touch her!_ : protested Nicely.  
  
"It's not like her to be so… so distracted!" Ginny accused. "Change them back, NOW!"  
  
: _Okay! Okay! Watch where you wave that thing! You'll have to let your brother see the page so I can show him how to change back._ :  
  
Harry held the book up for Ron. After a few minutes to get his bearings, Ron was back. He fell off the bed and rolled over onto his side, laughing so hard that tears poured down his face.  
  
"STOP LAUGHING, RON!" Ginny shrieked.  
  
Hermione jumped back. Then she gathered her wits together. "That was weird," she said, shaking her head and fluffing her hair with her fingers. "How did that book affect me?"  
  
"Do you have any idea who created this thing?" Ginny roared at Harry.  
  
"My dad."  
  
Ginny blinked. "Oh," she said, deflating. There didn't seem much else to say to this.  
  
"Ginny," Ron hooted. "Do you have any idea where you are pointing that spike of yours?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, take a look at where you're about to skewer Harry," Ron started laughing again. "Poor Mum would be heart-broken if you did that."  
  
"HUH?" Ginny said again.  
  
"She wants grandchildren, _eventually_!"  
  
It took a few seconds for the girls to work out what Ron was implying about Harry and Ginny. Then the girls realized _exactly_ what part of Harry's anatomy Ginny's spike would hit if she speared the book.  
  
"Oh, my," Hermione said.  
  
"Eep," Ginny said in a very small voice.  
  
Harry leaped off the bed and an Abyssinian cat dove for cover.  
  
It took them almost half an hour to talk the cat from under the bed. They were just lucky that nobody came in during that time.  
  
  
Meetings:  
  
Arthur Weasley was worried. They had put off getting Harry to St. Mungo's almost too long and now Molly was blaming herself for Harry being ill. Percy was determined to support the Ministry's view that Voldemort's resurrection was a hoax. The twins were determined to open a joke shop. Bill had left his job of breaking curses for a position that was reputed to _be_ cursed. Charlie was off doing chores for Dumbledore.   
  
And, _just_ to make his day complete, there was a werewolf and a hideously large, black Grim sitting across the room from him. The Grim was drooling on Dumbledore's carpet as if it had decided that Arthur was an especially appetizing tidbit.   
  
There was a clunking noise behind Arthur, but he didn't turn around to look. He knew who it was without looking.  
  
"Arthur, I apologize for keeping you waiting," Dumbledore's reassuring voice came.  
  
"I understand that you've been busy, Albus," Arthur said, not taking his eyes off the Grim.  
  
"That isn't a Grim," Dumbledore said, as if reading Arthur's mind.  
  
Arthur would have been impressed if he wasn't certain that his thoughts were spelled out across his face in three inch high letters.  
  
"Lupin," growled Alastor Moody's voice. "Nice dog you got there. What do you feed it? Dragons?"  
  
Arthur was vaguely pleased to know that the dog made even Alastor Moody nervous.  
  
"Actually, he prefers fried chicken," Remus Lupin said calmly. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Moody."  
  
"Don't get cute," Moody growled.  
  
The black dog growled back, showing impressively large teeth. Arthur was impressed, anyway.  
  
"Gentlemen, please," Dumbledore said. "We are all on the same team. As a great American statesman said, 'We must all hang together, or must assuredly, we shall all hang separate."  
  
"Lovely thought," growled Moody.  
  
"With You-Know-Who back, what other kind of thoughts can we have," Arthur sighed.  
  
"We need to work together," Dumbledore said. "It's the only way to defeat him."  
  
"You just said that," Moody growled. "It's not like you to repeat yourself, Albus. What's up?"  
  
"I guess I'm a little nervous," Dumbledore confessed.  
  
Arthur got an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Anything that would make ALBUS DUMBLEDORE nervous would terrify most sane wizards.   
  
"Several of our allies aren't exactly approved of by the Ministry," Dumbledore said.   
  
"You mean like werewolves and giants?" Moody said. ""Or did you have somebody worse in mind? No offense, Lupin."  
  
"None taken," Lupin sounded cool, collected and faintly amused.  
  
"I actually do have somebody with a worse reputation in mind," Dumbledore said blandly.  
  
Arthur took his eyes off the Grim long enough to exchange a worried look with Moody.  
  
"What? Worse?" Arthur blurted. "Molly said that you had some dangerous allies, but what could have a worse reputation than giants and werewolves?"   
  
"Sirius Black."  
  
Arthur's exclamation of "Sirius Black!" blended in so well with Moody's that it sounded like they'd been rehearsing for months.  
  
"He is not the deranged killer that the Ministry believes him to be," Dumbledore said.  
  
"He was the Potter's secret keeper," Moody growled. "You said so yourself!"  
  
"I was wrong." Dumbledore looked very old when he said that. "I allowed my anger at the Potters' murder to cloud my judgment. I have spent twelve years wondering how Sirius could have betrayed his friends like that, only to discover that he had not. I have been asking myself for the past year what the outcome would have been if I had only listened before I had denounced him." He stared down at his gnarled hands.   
  
"I should have insisted that Sirius be given a trial. Now I am haunted by the thought that there might be other innocents imprisoned in Azkaban. Innocents whom we may be too late to save, because they don't have the sanity-saving advantage that Sirius had."  
  
"And what was that?" Moody demanded.  
  
Arthur couldn't blame Moody for wanting to know how Black had escaped from Azkaban. There were a lot of prisoners there who wanted revenge against the former Auror.   
  
"Sirius is an Animagus," Lupin said. "His animal form wasn't as affected by the Dementors."  
  
Arthur and Moody looked at the big, black dog with dire suspicion.  
  
Sure enough, the dog transformed into Sirius Black, the most wanted wizard in Britain.  
  
"I was better off with the Grim," Arthur thought.  
  
"Black," Moody said.  
  
"Hello, Moody," Sirius said. "Mr. Weasley."  
  
"I'm sorry you went to Azkaban," Moody said. "I am glad you didn't do it. There was a time that I actually thought I could trust you."  
  
Sirius gave a lopsided smile. "Thank you, Moody."  
  
"So, Molly knows about you, then?" Arthur said. It was a statement, not really a question.  
  
"Yes, we met a few months ago," Sirius said.   
  
"And who else knows?"  
  
"Harry, Hermione and your son, Ron."  
  
Arthur gave Sirius a stern look. "If you allow anything to happen to those three, Mr. Black, Molly will make you homesick for the Dementors." Arthur was surprised at how matter-of-fact his voice was.  
  
Sirius actually grinned at him. "I believe you." He turned serious. "Believe me, I will protect them to the best of my ability," he said. "Harry is my godson; I'll do anything to make sure he is safe and happy." Sirius paused for a few minutes then added, "I'd be glad if you would call me Sirius. I owe you a lot for how you've been taking care of Harry."  
  
"You might as well call me Arthur. You don't owe me anything for taking care of Harry. Helping him was the only thing an honorable man could have done under the circumstances. And I'd be lying if I didn't say it's a joy to have him around. He's a great kid."  
  
Sirius acknowledged that with a slight bow.  
  
"Speaking of safe and happy," Moody broke in. "I have some potentially good news for you, Arthur."  
  
"I could use some right now," Arthur said.  
  
"It looks like the twins' mysterious backer might be on the level," Moody said.  
  
Arthur couldn't remember seeing Dumbledore look so flabbergasted. "Do you really think so?" Dumbledore asked. This was apparently not the sort of news that Dumbledore was used to hearing from Moody.  
  
"Yeah," Moody said. "I have a lead. It's only a rumor, mind you, but it makes sense given what I know about the situation." He looked at Black. "Black might be the best one to follow up on it, though."  
  
"Me?" Sirius asked. He hadn't expected that Moody would actually turn to him for help. Not this soon after finding out the truth about him, anyway.  
  
"Yes, you. Next time you see your godson, ask Potter what he did with the thousand Galleon purse from the Tri-Wizard Tournament."  
  
Arthur was glad he was sitting. The feeling of relief that washed through him left his knees feeling like rubber and he doubted that he'd have been able to keep on his feet. As Moody said, it fit. Arthur wondered why he hadn't even thought of Harry before. He'd been too fixed on worst case scenarios, he supposed.  
  
"Wouldn't Harry have said something?" Remus asked.  
  
Arthur shook his head. "Not necessarily," he said. "He might have been worried about how Molly and I would react. He knows Ron is touchy on the subject of money. He would expect us to object to him giving that much money to the twins."  
  
"I knew that he would not have a chance to deposit the money into Gringott's," Dumbledore said. "I thought about offering to handle the money for him, but I thought he would prefer to have the Weasleys to take care of it. I should have followed through on that thought. I could have saved us a lot of worry." He sighed. "I think I'm getting to old for this sort of thing."  
  
"We're all too old for this sort of thing," Arthur said quietly.  
  
"I think it's inappropriate to get upset over good news," Remus said. "Fred and George have the money to start their shop and they haven't gone in hock to a dark wizard to do so. And I expect the information that we've turned up in our attempts to trace the money back will come in useful."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Remus. You are correct; we can come out ahead on this matter, especially if Harry is the mystery backer." His smile made him look younger. "He has a generous heart," he said. "I think his parents would be pleased at the thought of his backing the twin's venture."  
  
"James with his own joke shop," Sirius murmured with a gleam in his eye. "He'd have loved it."  
  
  
Lily's Trunk:  
  
"I still can't believe how stupid you're being," Ginny said, once Harry was settled back in his bed.  
  
"Mrow, I mean, how do you mean?" Harry asked. He was back in his bed, with Nicely in his lap again.   
  
"This book has taken over your brains," Ginny said, waving the spike.   
  
Harry winced.   
  
Ginny sighed and twisted the spike's handle so the sharp point was safely hidden. "I mean, I was really stupid to let Riddle's diary take me over. However, I was only eleven at the time. You three are _fifteen_," she glared at Harry. "Or close enough AND you SAW what happened to me!" She pulled out her wand. "Maybe I ought to see if I can cram some common sense into your brain."  
  
"This is different!" Harry said. There was a taut expression on his face that told Hermione that he was hurt and angry. Oh, dear, it looked like her matchmaking efforts were going to be harder than she thought. And here she'd been thinking that _Ron_ was going to be the big obstacle. She'd forgotten the Weasley temper.  
  
"HOW?"  
  
"Well, for one thing, my dad is one of the designers of this book!" Harry said.   
  
"How can you be sure of that?" Ginny challenged.   
  
"It's very similar to another artifact that we have of his," Harry said. "The Marauder's Map."  
  
"The what?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Where is it? I'll get it," Ron said.  
  
"It's in my school trunk," Harry said.  
  
Ron pulled Harry's school trunk around so the girls couldn't see inside. Hermione made a wry face. There weren't any real secrets in there, unless Harry had her birthday present in there. No, it was more likely he was hiding his dirty underwear. When would he have had time to shop?  
  
"Here," Ron closed Harry's trunk and spread the Marauder's Map out on the lid. He touched his wand to it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"  
  
"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed.  
  
"I can use my wand while I'm here!" Ron said defensively.  
  
"I meant how can you say that you are up to no good?" Ginny demanded.  
  
"That's the password! See?"  
  
_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
Are proud to present  
The Marauder's Map!  
_  
There was a detailed map of Hogwarts, but they were clearly out of range, because no names appeared on the map.  
  
"And something that bills itself as an _Aid to Magical Mischief-Makers_ didn't strike you as being a _bad_ thing?" Ginny said icily.  
  
"Erm, no," Harry said. "I mean, I remembered what your father said, of course."  
  
Ginny snorted.  
  
"But this seemed harmless enough. All it does is show where people and secret passages are," Harry continued hurriedly.  
  
Ginny looked at Hermione severely. "I expect this sort of thing from _them_," she said, indicating the boys with a jerk of her head. "_You_, however, should show some common sense!"  
  
"Well, Fred and George used it for years with nothing bad happening to them!" Ron said. He tapped the map again. "Mischief managed!"   
  
The map went blank.  
  
"Fred and George? Wait, I thought you said this was from Harry's _father_?" Ginny said.  
  
"Well, it is, indirectly," Harry said. "My dad was Mr. Prongs. Filch confiscated the map from him, and the twins stole it from Filch a few years ago."  
  
"How did you know Mr. Prongs was your dad?" Ginny said. "How do you know he had anything to do with this cursed book?"_  
_  
: _Now, Ginny, I know you're upset_… :  
  
"DON'T CALL ME GINNY! I HAVEN'T GIVEN YOU PERMISSION!"  
  
: _Oops_. :  
  
"Will you stop yelling?" Ron asked. "You are giving me a headache!"  
  
"You probably got that from the miserable book!" Ginny snapped.  
  
: _That's MISS Miserable Book to you!_ : Nicely wrote.  
  
"This is getting us nowhere," Hermione said. "Nicely, you can't go around injecting information into people's brains."  
  
"Why not?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Harry, there's a _reason_ wizards teach their children the same way Muggles do. The brain needs to process information at its own rate. Just injecting information in there could do some damage… like if you opened a book at random and started writing. You will likely destroy information that's already in there!" Hermione had almost mentioned computers, but thought that the Weasleys probably wouldn't understand the reference.  
  
Harry looked at her wide-eyed. Then he transferred his worried gaze to _The Survival Guide_. "Nicely, did you destroy some of my memories?" he asked.  
  
: _I don't think so_. :  
  
"But you're not sure," Harry said unhappily.  
  
: _No_. :  
  
Ron was crouched next to the bed, staring intently at the Animagus guide. After the last exchange, he closed his eyes and frowned. Then he opened them again and smiled. "I still have the memory of Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. Anything else can go!"  
  
"Like your name?" Ginny asked.  
  
"How about your toilet training?" Hermione added.  
  
"Eurgh," Harry said.  
  
"Erm, yes, I can see your point," Ron said, rather taken aback.  
  
"You _have_ to report this thing!" Ginny insisted.  
  
"What?" Ron yelped.  
  
"Suppose we tell Professor Lupin?" Harry suggested.  
  
Ginny started to look mollified. Then a sudden thought struck her and she scowled. "Professor Lupin was one of the Marauders, wasn't he? Is that how you found out about your father?"  
  
"Yes," Harry admitted.  
  
Ginny frowned.  
  
"Don't worry," Hermione said firmly. "We'll be telling Professor Dumbledore about this as soon as we see him, won't we?" Her fierce look didn't encourage argument.  
  
"She hasn't even got the official notification and already she's acting like a prefect," Ron muttered.  
  
The glare Hermione gave the boys would have done credit to a basilisk.  
  
Ron decided this was a good time to change the subject. Besides, he had another problem that was beginning to nag at him. "That still doesn't tell me how Nicely managed to affect Hermione. She wasn't touching the book."  
  
"Nicely's pretty powerful," Harry said. "She transfigured me when I was across the room from her."  
  
Hermione frowned. "I find that hard to believe," she said.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Not that I think you're lying," Hermione added hastily. "I think you're misinterpreting. Are you sure she wasn't in reach? What exactly were you doing when she transfigured you?"  
  
"She was on my camp bed and I was sitting a few feet away looking through my mum's trunk."  
  
Ron frowned at the trunk. "Hermione was touching the trunk when Nicely affected her," he pointed out.  
  
"You think there's something about the trunk that made it possible for Nicely to transfigure me from a distance?" Harry asked.  
  
"When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth," Hermione said.  
  
The other three looked at her.   
  
"Surely _one_ of you has read Sherlock Holmes!" Hermione said.  
  
"Of course," Ron said. "He's big in the wizarding world."  
  
"Let me guess, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a Squib," Hermione said.  
  
"No, but the man he based Holmes on was," Ginny said. "Doyle was actually a failed wizard. Never passed his O.W.L.s."  
  
"Well, that's a comfort," Harry said. "If I fail, I can always write my life story."  
  
"Sounds boring to me," Ron teased. Before Harry could throw a retort or something more solid, Ron turned his attention back to the trunk. "Okay, what's in this trunk?"   
  
The tablecloth, the napkins and the sheets were still in Hermione's shopping bag. The pillows were on Harry's bed.   
  
Ron began pulling stacks of cards from Lily's trunk. "You know, this thing is a lot lighter than it should be," he muttered as he stacked the cards in messy piles.   
  
"Aunt Petunia thought it was empty at first, because of its lightness," Harry said.  
  
"Your mum probably put a Feather Weight enchantment on it," Ginny said. "Mum does that when she wants to move furniture around." Ginny frowned. "But this one has lasted an awful long time, if it had."  
  
"These aren't Christmas cards," Ron interrupted. He held out a card with a birthday cake on it. Being a wizarding card, the candle flames were actually flickering.  
  
"Happy Birthday," Harry read. He tried to open the card, but failed.  
  
"You have to blow out the candles, first," Ginny said.   
  
"Oh." Harry blew out the card candles and flicked open the card. "Many happy returns, Remus."  
  
"Remus? As in Remus Lupin?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Yeah, I think so," Harry replied. "I guess he was probably friends with my mother, he and my father were pretty tight." He couldn't remember Remus actually mentioning his mother, though.  
  
"Cool," Ginny said. "You want to look at some more?"  
  
"Is that all it says?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No," Harry said.  
  
The girls exchanged looks.   
  
"Sorry," Harry caught himself. "I mean, there's more written here, but I'd rather not read the cards just yet. I'd rather…"  
  
"Have some privacy," Ginny said immediately. "I understand." She glared at Nicely. "Just promise me that you won't let the cards transfigure you into a candle or something."  
  
: _Give it a rest_. :  
  
"Ladies, please," Ron said. "We have an investigation to complete." Really, it didn't take a Hermione to figure out that the card probably said something about Sirius Black. Ron bet himself that at least one of the other cards was actually from Sirius. Not something they wanted to bring up in front of Ginny, not until she had been filled in on Sirius' situation.  
  
Under the cards was some wrapping paper, some stationery supplies and half-a-dozen ancient copies of Which Broomstick. Ron frowned as he stacked these to one side. "That's it," he said.  
  
"Just some stuff she needed to get out of the way while they moved," Harry sighed.  
  
"What all did you find?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Well, the linen tablecloth and napkins, plus the silk bedding," Harry said. "Then there were the spyglass, the greeting cards, and the… um…" he stopped. He'd been about to say the cloaks, but remembered just in time that he had never said anything about the two cloaks that he'd found because he'd wanted to keep them a secret. He didn't want Ginny to know that he'd sent her the cloak that she was currently wearing. He sighed mentally. Keeping secrets from Ginny was becoming quite a chore.  
  
"The what?" Ginny prompted. She pulled the cloak a little tighter around herself.  
  
Harry thought that she looked _really_ good in that cloak.  
  
"There were some newspapers," Harry said, changing the subject and hoping Ginny would think he had been talking about the newspapers all along. "I don't remember seeing them…" He looked around.  
  
"Here they are," Ron said. He held the top one up. "Here, I guess your mum wanted to save up the import events of the day for you."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. "And the cards. I didn't see the magazines before that. I wonder why she kept them."  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I think we'd have a better guess if we actually read them," she suggested.  
  
"This is weird," Ron said. There was a look of intense concentration on his face as he ran his hand around the inside of Lily's trunk.  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"The inside of this trunk it too shallow," Ron said. "There's got to be a hidden compartment in here."   
  
"What!?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"How can you tell?" Ginny asked.  
  
"The inside walls are shorter than the outside," Ron said. "Look."  
  
The other three obediently looked as Ron measured the inside and the outside of the trunk with his fingers.  
  
"There's at least two inches unaccounted for," Ron said.  
  
Harry knelt on the bed and ran one hand inside the trunk. Then he felt the outside. "You're right. There's got to be another compartment in here, but I don't feel any latch or anything," he said. "How do you open it?" He looked at Hermione as he said that, as if expecting her to pull an answer out of thin air.  
  
Hermione's forehead wrinkled and she examined the trunk, also. "I don't see anything offhand," Hermione confessed.  
  
Ginny's search was no more successful.  
  
"Going back to the Sherlock Holmes business," Ron said. "'When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth.'"  
  
"Okay, so we've eliminated _physical_ latches inside the trunk," Ginny said. "What about magic latches? Or at least physical latches hidden by magic?"  
  
Ron and Hermione pulled their wands. Ron raised his eyebrow.  
  
"I have a permit, too," huffed Hermione.  
  
"To use your wand in case of _emergency_," Ron pointed out. "I don't think finding hidden compartments in an old trunk qualifies as an 'emergency'." He smirked. "Come now, you won't get that coveted Head Girl badge if you're always breaking the rules!"  
  
Harry yawned. "Look, mates, this is old. If you want to flirt, go find an empty room."  
  
"HARRY!" bellowed Ron and shrieked Hermione.  
  
"I was not… I mean, even I can come up with a better line than that if I want to flirt!" Ron blustered.  
  
"Like what?" Hermione wanted to know.  
  
"Like, like, you _should_ be made Head Girl," Ron said. "You're smarter than anybody at Hogwarts! You're also one of the most honorable and trustworthy person I've ever met! You'd do great as a Prefect and as Head Girl!"  
  
Hermione blushed. "Erm, thank you," she managed after a few minutes.  
  
Harry didn't dare look at Ginny for fear of catching her eye. He was having a hard time containing his laughter as it was.  
  
Ginny was looking at her brother with pride. He'd made the first move and Hermione had not laughed or started throwing hexes! She didn't dare look at Harry right then. She suspected that if she and Harry were to look at each other, they'd both burst out laughing and ruin the moment.  
  
"Erm, what was that spell to find hidden objects?" Ron said.  
  
"You mean, _aparecium_?" Hermione asked. "Tap three times, first."  
  
"Right," Ron said. He tapped the interior of Lily's trunk three times and said, '_Aparecium!_'  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"Try, '_revealo_,'" Hermione suggested.  
  
_"Revealo!"  
  
_That didn't work, either.  
  
"Ollie, ollie, oxen free!" Ron said, tapping the trunk again.  
  
Nothing happened except for Hermione's eyebrows disappearing into her fringe.  
  
"That's not a real incantation!" she accused.  
  
"Yes it is!"  
  
"It didn't _do_ anything!"  
  
"It worked as well as the incantations _you_ suggested!"  
  
Harry made kissy noises at them. Ron levitated a pillow over Harry's head in a threatening manner.  
  
"This is no time to argue!" Ginny said. She scrambled up the bed and placed her hand over Harry's mouth. It was a gesture she made often with her brothers. However, she realized that this was HARRY POTTER that she was stifling. Not only that, his lips were puckered up, so the effect was much the same as if he had deliberately kissed the palm of her hand. Crimson really did _not_ go well with her orange hair.  
  
Harry gently removed Ginny's hand from his face and said. "Shall we get on with the problem at hand?" He resisted the urge to kiss her hand just to see what colour her face would take on. He finally understood why Ron enjoyed teasing Hermione so much.  
  
"Okay, but no more kissy noises or I'll tell Mum that you and Ginny were in bed together," Ron said.  
  
Ginny was already red-faced and Harry quickly joined her in that condition. Ginny scrambled off the bed and circled around to look at the trunk from a safe distance.  
  
: _Finally_ : Nicely subscripted to herself.  
  
"Well, there's nothing in the trunk to open the secret compartment," Hermione said calmly. "So what's left? A secret password?"  
  
Harry sighed. "If it's a password, then we're sunk," he said. "I have no idea what my mum would have used. I don't think even…" he almost said Sirius, but remembered Ginny just in time. He really wished she were in on the secret, it was getting hard to talk about his parents and Animagi without bringing in Sirius. "… even Dumbledore could guess what she'd use."  
  
"Don't despair quite yet," Ron said. "We still haven't eliminated physical latches." He squinted at the trunk. "Here, let's close it up," he said.   
  
When the trunk was closed up, they all examined it. It was rather small, as trunks went. It was only half the size of their school trunks.   
  
Hermione ran her fingers over the embossed leather. "Roses and eagles," she said. "I wonder why she'd want eagles. I'd think a Gryffindor would want lions."  
  
"It belonged to my grandmother… I mean, my great-grandmother," Harry said.  
  
"Oh, was she in Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked.  
  
"As far as I know, the Evans were all Muggles," Harry said. "Although Aunt Petunia thought my great-grandmother was a freak, so maybe she was a witch."  
  
Hermione frowned at him. "Haven't you ever asked about your family?"  
  
"You're joking," Harry grumped. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hated questions, especially from me. I only found out the date of my birth from my school records."  
  
"Enough!" Ginny growled. "Hermione, stop badgering the boy. You're a Gryffindor, not a Hufflepuff!"  
  
Hermione turned magenta. "I'm sorry," she said.  
  
Ron thought that magenta was a very good color on her.  
  
Harry sighed with relief. "Not your fault that the Dursleys are creeps," he said.  
  
Ron muttered his opinion of the Dursleys under his breath. "Wait!" he blurted before Hermione could chastise him. "I think I've got it!" He pointed. "Here, the front of the trunk is really the back and lifting the latch doesn't open it."  
  
"We already know that," Harry said. "You have to open it by the hinges."  
  
"Right," Ron said. He opened the hinges and lifted the lid of the trunk. "Now, suppose the latch _isn't_ a fake?" he asked. "What if it just doesn't open what you _expect_ it to open?" He reached around the trunk and lifted the latch.  
  
There was a soft click and the bottom of the trunk jumped. No opening appeared, but the bottom was no longer flat.  
  
"Brilliant," breathed Harry.   
  
"Ron, you are a genius," Hermione said in honest admiration.  
  
Ron's face turned the familiar Weasley red.  
  
Harry reached in to open the false bottom, but only managed to shut it firmly again. He muttered something under his breath that Hermione and Ginny chose not to hear.  
  
"Let's try again," Ron said. He triggered the latch. "There's no finger hold in here," he complained.  
  
Hermione dug into her purse and produced a nail file.  
  
"That's my Hermione," Ron said. "Always prepared."  
  
Hermione turned scarlet.  
  
Ron thought that scarlet was a very good color on her.  
  
Harry thought that _other_ people's romantic problems were highly entertaining. He didn't say anything, though. These three were likely to be around when he started having romantic problems of his own. He snuck a look at Ginny out of the corner of his eye and decided to change the subject.  
  
"Okay, so let's see what's in here," he said. He turned his attention back to the   
  
He used Hermione's nail file to pry open the false bottom. Inside was a shallow compartment packed with crumpled newspapers. The people in the pictures, what little could be seen of them, appeared to be disgruntled with their crumpled state.  
  
Harry picked out the newspapers and handed them to Hermione. Absently, Hermione started to flattened out them out, much to the relief of the occupants of the pictures.  
  
Under the newspapers, a long, thin package was wedged diagonally into the top of the trunk.  
  
"It's a broom!" Ron said. "It has to be!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "It's awfully small," he said doubtfully.  
  
"It's a child's broom," Ginny said patiently.  
  
Harry tried to pull the package out. It was firmly wedged in and he had to give several hard tugs to inch it out of the trunk. There was a note attached to it:_ "James and Sirius: If you think you're going to my son get on a broom before he's five years old… that's five YEARS, not five MONTHS… you are sadly mistaken. If you try to open this package without my permission, then I'll be the one to MAKE you sad! Love and hexes, Lily."  
_  
Harry ran his finger across the spellotape that held the package shut and his fingers tingled, much as they had the first time that he'd held his wand. "Whoa!" he said, pulling his hand back.  
  
"What?" Ron asked.  
  
"I think this thing is still alive!" Harry replied.  
  
"You think your mum hexed it?" Ginny asked.  
  
"I can't think of any other way to interpret that," Harry said, handing her the note. "Can you?"  
  
"You should have Bill break the hex on it," Ron said. "He's an expert and I'll bet your mum didn't use anything as nasty as those pharaohs did."  
  
"That will be hard, as Bill's in Egypt," Ginny said.   
  
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Didn't Mum and Dad tell you? He's taken a leave of absence from Gringott's. He's thinking of moving to Britain."  
  
Ginny grinned. "Really? Maybe we can get together for Christmas, then."  
  
Hermione leaned forward to take a closer look. The still crumpled newspapers on her lap rustled and fell to the ground. One of them landed with a distinct 'thump.'  
  
"What was that?" Ron asked.  
  
The Weasleys and Harry, distracted from the thought of Bill, craned their necks to see what Hermione had dropped.  
  
Hermione picked up the twist of paper and said, unnecessarily, "There's something in here."  
  
She handed the newspaper to Harry. Gingerly, he set the supposed broom to one side and unwrapped the second find. Inside the wad of newspapers was a small, velvety box, such as jewelers use. Harry took a deep breath and opened the lid. A small corner of his brain was surprised to note that his hands weren't shaking.  
  
Inside the box was a man's ring. Harry pulled it out and hefted it on the palm of his hand. He wasn't an expert, but he had been handling Galleons for a few years now. This felt like actual gold to him. He didn't recognize the red stone that was set in it. It wasn't transparent like a ruby, but a translucent orange-red. Part of Harry's mind registered that it was about the same colour as his Animagus form.  
  
"What's that etched on there?" Ginny asked.  
  
"A stag," Harry replied. He held the ring so that the others could see the gold stag inlaid in the stone.  
  
"What kind of stone is that?" Ron asked.  
  
"I think it's a carnelian," Hermione replied.   
  
"Read about gems have you?" Harry asked with a slight smile.  
  
"Yes," Hermione said. "And if you weren't busy sleeping in over your Charms homework, you probably would have read about them, too."  
  
"I do not sleep over Charms essays," Harry said loftily. "Charms are actually useful. Now, History of Magic essays make excellent pillows." He was trying to keep his tone light, but his voice wasn't entirely steady.  
  
"Is that your father's ring?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry frowned. "I don't think so," He stared at the ring and his good mood began to fade.  
  
"I think there's writing inside," Ginny noted.  
  
Harry squinted and shoved his glasses to a firmer seat on his nose. "Never doubt I love," he read. He took a deep breath. He knew the message wasn't for him, but he couldn't doubt his mother's love. She had protected him from Voldemort twice.  
  
"More Shakespeare," said Hermione. "How appropriate."  
  
"See? I said it was your dad's!" Ron exclaimed. "It's too big to have been for you!"  
  
Harry shook his head.   
  
"What?" Ron demanded.  
  
"It was hidden with the Christmas stuff," Harry explained. "Mum had her cards ready to be mailed out, so I think this was going to be my dad's Christmas present that year."  
  
"Oh," Hermione said. The melancholy expression on Harry's face made her wish she hadn't bothered with the newspapers. Afraid she was about to burst into tears, she stood up to excuse herself for a few minutes. As she did so, she accidentally created a diversion. The remaining papers fell off her lap and something fell with them with a small thump and a burst of red sparks.  
  
"What was that?" Harry asked, leaping to his feet on the bed.  
  
Ron flinched from the sparks. He straightened up when they stopped. "Some sort of Christmas cracker?" Ron wondered. He pulled his wand again.  
  
"It doesn't look like a cracker," Ginny said. She approached the hidden sparkler, wand in hand. This looked very much like a situation covered by her temporary wand license. Warily, she used the wand to lift up the newspapers. "Looks like a bag or a scarf of some sort."  
  
Harry slid off his bed and gingerly picked up the red and gold piece of cloth. It was definitely a bag, he decided. He could see the drawstring at the top.  
  
"Harry, mate, did anybody ever tell you that picking up things that give off sparks is stupid?" Ron asked.  
  
"No," Harry replied. The cloth made his hand tingle as he pulled the drawstring.  
  
"Don't!" the other three shouted.  
  
Harry was too lost in his own thoughts to actually hear them, much less heed them, and he opened the bag. Inside was a wand. It was about ten inches long and made of some pale wood. There was a crack in it that occasionally sparked like a shorted out wire.  
  
"You-are-_barking_!" snarled Ron.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, coming out of his haze with a start.  
  
"That's what did it, not Nicely," Hermione said.  
  
"Huh?" was Harry's less than witty rejoinder.  
  
"Harry, you are a NUTTER!" Ron added. "Don't EVER open ANYTHING that gives off sparks! I mean, how _dim_ can you get?"  
  
"That's what caused me to get distracted when Ron got turned into an owl," Hermione said. "I wondered how I could have been more interested in talking about your Animagus form than in Ron being turned into an animal against his will."  
  
Harry looked at the wand in the bag, and a memory stirred. "You think my mum's wand had something to do with it?" he asked.  
  
"I think the trunk had a Distraction Spell on it," Hermione said. "When you touched it, then your mind would drift off somewhere. That's why your Aunt never noticed the trunk before. That's why you didn't hear us warn you not to open the bag."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. "What does the charm on the trunk have to do with my getting distracted when I picked up this bag?"  
  
Ron narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth.  
  
"What makes you say that's your mother's wand?" Ginny threw out a distraction of her own to prevent an argument between Ron and Harry.  
  
"Erm, well, Ollivander…" Harry started.  
  
"Talk about mental cases," Ron muttered.  
  
"… Told me that he remembered my mum buying her first wand," Harry finished doggedly. "I didn't really think about it at the time, but if she bought a _first_ wand, then she must have needed to replace it at some point."  
  
The wand spat out some purple bubbles.  
  
"I can see why," Ron said. "She probably used the wand as well-spring of the Distraction Spell. It's not really safe to use a cracked wand for a long period of time, but I guess she didn't expect it to have to sit around for…" He did some rapid math in his head. "…Thirteen years, nine months."  
  
"I've read about using broken wand like batteries before," Hermione said thoughtfully.   
  
"Wizards don't use batteries," Ginny said. "Except in Muggle Studies class."  
  
Hermione turned pink.  
  
Ron thought that pink was a very good color on her.  
  
"Ahem, anyway," Hermione said, recovering her composure and her normal coloring. (Ron thought that her regular complexion looked very good on her, too.) "The danger in using a cracked wand is that eventually, the magic leaks out of them enough to started affecting whatever is holding them."  
  
"I'm lost," Harry confessed. "Start at the beginning. What does the spell on my mum's trunk have to do with me getting distracted when I picked up this bag?"  
  
Hermione took a deep breath. "Right, sorry. From the top, and mind you, I'm coming up with this theory as I go, so don't expect it to be particularly well crafted. Lily needed to leave the trunk at the Dursleys. I'm guessing because she had James' Christmas present in it."  
  
"Huh?" Harry said.  
  
"I'm not following," Ginny admitted.  
  
"You lost me, too," Ron said.  
  
"Sorry, my parents moved once, in the days before I got my Hogwarts letter, so I have an idea of what it was like for the Potters. It's hard to pack up an entire household and harder to unpack. You have to do it in stages. So, when you move to a new house, the first couple of weeks, even months, are spent trying to find things that haven't been unpacked. I'm guessing that Lily was afraid that James might come across his Christmas present while he was poking around looking for something."  
  
The other three nodded to show they were now following her.  
  
"So, Lily left the trunk with her sister and put a low level Distraction Spell on it for some reason," Hermione said.  
  
Harry spoke up. "Likely to keep her notoriously nosy sister from messing with it."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Harry was the expert on the Dursleys.  
  
"She used the wand to keep the charm working. That way she didn't have to put a lot of power behind it. That would have let her save her strength for other things. Like moving and taking care of her baby."  
  
The Weasleys looked at Harry and made kissy faces. Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
As soon as everybody was looking away from her, Ginny blushed. She couldn't believe she could tease Harry the same way she could tease her brothers!  
  
"So the broken wand was keeping up the Distraction Spell. I expect it also maintained the Feather Weight spell. After all, the trunk is less noticeable if it's easy to move out of the way. But I digress, over the years, the Distraction spell soaked into everything that the wand touched."  
  
"Like the bag," Harry said. "And the trunk."  
  
"Right," Hermione said. "This might also explain how Nicely was able to transfigure you into a cat when you weren't touching her."  
  
"So, how does the Distraction Spell turn me into a cat?" Harry asked.  
  
"That _must_ have distracted you from the trunk," Ginny pointed out. "The bloody book wanted to transfigure you and the trunk wanted to distract you… so the two magics teamed up."  
  
: _Bloody book!_ : Nicely superscipted. : _I'll give you bloody! Come over here and I'll give you such a paper cut!_ :  
  
"Maybe," Hermione said. "This is just a theory."  
  
"It makes sense," Harry said slowly. He looked at the ring he was holding. "Do you think that this ring was affected?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "I wouldn't wear it if I were you."  
  
"Hm?" Harry said, distractedly. He pulled the ring on, but it was far too loose.  
  
Ron smacked his forehead. Then he reached over and smacked Harry's forehead.  
  
"Stop that!" Harry yelped. He slapped Ron's hand away and looked ready to take the battle up to the next level.  
  
"You are making me sympathize with Snape!" Ron growled. "Didn't Hermione just tell you NOT to put that on?"  
  
"Oh," Harry said, blushing. He pulled the ring off.  
  
Ginny thought Harry looked good in red. She also thought that it was fortunate that both Harry and Hermione's coloring went well with all shades of red. "Well, I guess it's obvious that the ring is affected," she said. "You get distracted so easily when you touch it."  
  
That was as good a reason as any, Harry thought. He carefully placed the ring back in its box. He didn't want to think about his parents missing Christmas. He didn't want to cry. They've been dead for years, Potter, he told himself. Get over it.  
  
He wondered if his father would have liked the ring.  
  
"What are you going to do about the wand?" Hermione asked. "It's too dangerous to leave lying around."  
  
Harry frowned. "I wonder if Ollivander can fix it?" he said, almost to himself.  
  
"I can send Hedwig with a message if you like," Ginny offered.   
  
"Sure, thanks, Ginny," Harry said. He paused. "I'm sorry that Nicely upset you. I really do think she's mostly harmless," he added.  
  
"It's the part that's not harmless that I'm worried about," Ginny said darkly.  
  
"I wonder what yours and Hermione's Animagus forms would be," Ron said.  
  
"Ron! This isn't the time or the place!" Hermione said.  
  
"Why not?" Ron asked. "We know what Nicely can do. She knows she'd better not do it. All she's going to do is show you a picture of what your Animagus form will be, right?"  
  
: _Absolutely_! : Nicely agreed enthusiastically.  
  
"You are kidding!" Ginny gasped. "Wait, what am I saying? Of course, you're not kidding. You were changed into an owl, you want to see Hermione turned into something, too."  
  
"I won't be turned into anything," Hermione said firmly. "I can handle this, Ginny. Here, give me that book." She snatched the Animagus Guide off of Harry's bed and glared at it, practically challenging Nicely to try to transfigure her.  
  
After a few seconds, smoke starting seeping out of Nicely's pages.   
  
Hermione blinked and jerked back just as Nicely burst into flames.  
  
"Hey!" Harry cried. He slammed the Survival Guide shut. After he was sure the fire was out, he opened it again. "Nicely? Are you all right?"   
  
All of chapter one was gone. The first few pages of chapter two were charred. As Hermione apologized profusely, Harry flipped through the pages to see how extensive the damage was.  
  
Harry finally found some writing in the middle of chapter two. His eyes widened as he read because he'd never seen that particular phrase written out before. It was _not_ spelled the way he would had thought.  
  
"I'm so sorry!" Hermione said again. "Really, I never meant to hurt your book!"   
  
"It's all right, Hermione," Harry said. "Really, it is. Just one thing," he added.  
  
"What?" Hermione demanded.  
  
Harry looked at her soberly. "Remind me _never_ to get into a staring contest with you."  
  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
This is a 'good news, bad news' scenario. This story is FINISHED! (It's not all posted yet, there are two, maybe three chapters depending on how I divide the last chunk up.) "A Sirius Situation" is under construction. Cheers!  
  
Chapter sixteen and seventeen's titles come from Shakespeare: "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agly."  
  
The quote in the ring is also from Shakespeare:   
Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
Doubt that the sun doth move;  
Doubt truth to be a liar;  
But never doubt I love.   
  
  
Responses:  
  
Nengski: Thanks for the review, and thanks for telling me the parts that you particularly liked.  
  
  
Squintz: Thanks for the review! I'm not a huge Lucille Ball fan, but I did like some of her stuff. Having worked in a factory, the episode where Lucy and Ethel were working in a candy factory has become one of my favorite comedy scenes.  
  
  
Female Fred: Thanks for the review! ** I would love to have those pillows, myself. Save a lot of storage space.  
  
  
NengSki: Thanks for the compliments! Sorry about the cliffhanger. Fear not, the end is coming… (Somehow that didn't come out right.)  
  
  
Chelleybeans: Thanks for the review and for the email! (I hope I answered your email! My computer hiccoughed and I lost the entire month of April from my mailbox.) ** I'm glad you're enjoying the story! ** Enjoy the reviewing thing!  
  
  
Lourdes: Thanks for reviewing! ** Harry's white hairs are a symptom of his stress, poor baby.  
  
  
Ozma: Thanks for the review, partner! ** Thanks for telling me the parts that you liked! ** I wanted to get Ron into a field where he wasn't competing with his brothers. Besides, he's a lot like Molly and being a doctor is his way of 'mothering' people. ** I figure that Dumbledore's old enough to have descendents, why not give him a daughter? ** Of course Harry was worried about Hagrid. I'm worried about what Rowling has in mind for the big lug myself. ** One way of dealing with FF.net's habit of eating reviews is to do the review in your word processor, then paste it into the review box. That way, even if ff.net eats it, you have a copy so you don't have to rewrite the darn thing. See ya!  
  
  
Ozma: Thanks for the long review! ** Seems to me that Hagrid has a lot of faith in people. ** Can you blame Rupert for forgetting? It was two o'clock in the morning! ** I hope Rowling does more with Firenze, I liked him! ** Thanks, more Shakespeare references coming up! ** Glad you liked the greeting between Ron and Ginny! I've said things like that to my sister. ** Moody was pleased that Arthur's children were so on the ball. ** Poor Viktor, I suppose I should do something nice for him. ** More is on the way!  
  
  
Chocolate Muse: Thanks for the review! Sorry it's taken me so long to finish this, I wanted to finish weeks ago! Having my computer eat a day's work didn't help! ** Thanks for the compliment on my naming system!  
  
  
whoever I am at the moment: Hello! Thanks for reviewing! ** I wanted to give Dumbledore a family. ** Sorry that I kept you up past your bedtime! Sweet Dreams!   
  
  
Bob: Thanks for the review! ** Oh, my, I know which commercials you mean? "Are you gellin'?" *snicker* ** Ron should be able to figure some things out before Hermione does. He's been in the wizarding world longer. (The only thing I disliked about the second movie was them giving Ron's explanations to Hermione.) ** Unspeakables? Oops. ** Firenze seemed like the outspoken type who always manages to get himself into trouble. I liked him. Got to figure out a way to use him in a story. ** Sorry, I didn't finish this when I wanted to. I'm going to have to really hustle to get "A Sirius Situation" out.  
  
  
Andrea13: Thanks for the review! ** I hate it when FF.net gets stubborn like that! ** Where do I come up with these things? I suspect I may have too much time on my hands, or maybe it's sucking in all that carbon monoxide on the freeways... actually, the sham pillows are from real world pillow shams and knitten kitten was from a typo that I liked. ** Thanks for quoting your favorite lines!   
  
MaegnasEssenya: Thanks for the review! I'm sorry that my choice of animal for Harry disappointed you. I'm glad you decided to keep reading anyway! ** I won't take offense about you praising another story. ** Thanks for the URL of the animal characteristics. Personally, I think the Cat fits Harry quite well. ** I gave Ron the owl because I wanted to give him an ability Harry didn't have -- flying under his own power.   
  
MaegnasEssenya: Thanks for the translation! ** Interesting that Frodo's sword is the spider's bane.   
  
Angel of the North: Thanks for the review! ** Tiberius Potter was murdered. More on that later. ** I don't have a whole family tree, just his father's parents (Tiberius and Tatiana), Tiberius' father (Samson) and Lily's maternal grandmother (Benedictine Arne, who may or may not have been a witch. Haven't decided yet.)   
  
ManWOlf83: Thanks for the review! ** I looked it up, it's Vegameatavitamine.   
  
Lan: Thanks for the review! Sorry about the cliff-hanger. Sorry to say, there are more of them ahead because I couldn't run the rest of the story in one lump.   
  
amulder: Thanks for the review, and thanks for finding canonical evidence that wizarding photos are indeed in black and white! ** I take it you like the idea of Ginny hitting Viktor? ** It flows quite nicely becuase I wrestled that *deleted* into submission. ** Yep, Ron and Ginny both know Harry well enough to guess where the money had come from. ** Yes, Ron as an owl and Harry as a cat will be a very good combination. grin   
  
Draco664: Thanks for the review! ** Terry Pratchett? Oh, it shows, does it? Oops.   
  
taself: Thanks for the review! ** As for Ron being a Mediwizard, no one said a doctor has to be stable. (Mind, a surgeon needs steady hands, but the average doctor can be as emotional as he wants.) He is also good at chess, which means that he's good a spotting patterns and thinking ahead of the game. That will be helpful in diagnosing illnesses and in figuring out how the disease is likely to progress. ** Ron's ears did go red the first time he was called a honey badger. ** Yep, Ginny is way cool in my book, too.   
  
amulder: Thanks for the compliments! ** Re: the satin sheets: James and Lily were *married* and they had a son. It's pretty obvious what the satin sheets were for. (And Harry doesn't want to think about it.) ** Maybe I should leave the Unmentionables in, just for a joke. (Easier than changing it, anyway. ;-)   
  
Eris, Queen of Shadows: Thanks for the review! (And thanks for reviewing at GT, too!) ** Hermione might still wind up as a Mediwitch. ** Glad you like the Verbose Vending machines! I love making up things like that. ** If you want a Harry and Ginny smoochies story, next time you're over at GryffindorTower, check out my 2003 Valentine's story: "Taste Test".   
  
Shyanne: Hi! Welcome back! Thanks for the review. I understand how hectic real life can get. (So, should I have a character named Timothy get hit with a Bludger or something?) ** Glad you like Ron's Animagus form! ** Poor Viktor, he gets hit and people cheer. I'll have to make it up to him. ** Thanks for the compliments on my pacing!   
  
Lilia: Thanks for the review! ** I hope Ginny knocked some sense into Viktor. He's a good kid, really. He just needs to pace himself a bit.   
  
Three Sickles Short: Thanks for the review! ** Yes, Hermione really needs to take into account Harry's talent for getting into trouble! ** I think Harry's sense of humor is one of his most endearing traits. It enabled him to survive the Dursleys. ** I like Firenze, too. If he doesn't show up in "A Sirius Situation", he'll be in another story. I love centaurs! (That was one of the selling points of the Harry Potter series, as far as I was concerned.) ** I based the name "Honey Badgers" on Candy Stripers. I was trying to think of something comparable to 'candy' and 'honey' came to mind, so I just combined them with Helga Hufflepuff's favorite animal. Very convenient that there is such an animal as a honey badger, isn't it? ** Another person who thought that smacking Viktor was a good idea. Poor Viktor. J I actually debated about making Ron a fox, for the reasons you mentioned, but I decided an owl would work better in my stories.  
  
A. Lee: Thanks for reviewing! ** The adults thought that Fred and George might get tricked into accepting money from a death eater. Lots of people have found themselves in debt to the wrong people. ** Yes, Ginny decked Viktor for not taking Ron as a serious threat. ** Unspeakables? Erm, yes. I believe you are right. *blushes*  
  
Iniysa: Thanks for the review! ** The end is coming!   
  
Chary: Thanks for reviewing! (Now if I could only get you to UPDATE! Grrrrrrr…) ** Glad you enjoyed the story! ** Thanks for telling me what your favorite parts were! ** No, Honey Badger isn't very manly, is it? Neither is "Candy Striper", which is what hospital volunteers in the US are called. ** York Parkinson is a kind man, even if he is ambitious. Besides, it helps him to have intelligent assistants, and if he can get one of Ron's intelligence for the price of a uniform, he'll do it. (Even if he didn't expect to like Arthur's son.) ** The ESA amplified Harry's stress. Anybody could have figured out that Harry would be severely stressed after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. ** Thanks for the compliments on my Verbose Vending machines! They just felt like something the wizarding world would have. ** I guess I'll have to make it up to Viktor somehow. ** I have plans for Ron's talent. Don't think it will be in the next story, though. Probably in the centaur story that I promised Three-Sickles Short.   
  
Von: Thanks for the review! Well, Harry and Ron have more training than the Marauders did when they started. (The Marauders were second years, Harry and Ron have finished four years.) But yes, there were Other Forces at work this time. ** Yes, the poor twins will be quite put out that people were suspecting them of associating with a group with NO sense of humor! ** No, an ESA isn't designed to kill, which is why it wasn't detected. Unfortunately, a lot of things that are designed to kill can prove to be fatal, if used incorrectly. ** Yep, Harry still has some white hairs.   
  
Punkin: Hi! Thanks for the review! ** Yes, everything HAS to happen to Harry. Everything. It's in his contract. (That'll teach him to sign without reading!) ** That was one of my favorite episodes of "I Love Lucy," also. ** Thanks for the compliment on my miniaturized Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills! ** Tell Aimee that I said 'Hi!' ** Thanks for all the compliments!  
  
Jake: Thanks for the review! ** Glad you like my version of Hermione's father! ** Gummer? Your dad ROX!   
  
Jake: Thanks for the review and the big grin I had on my face after I read it!   
  
Rhiain: Thanks for the review!   
  
Helen: Thanks for reviewing! ** Harry won't be an Animagus? Awwww… well, my stories are definitely AU then! Thanks for telling me!   
  
X13: Hi! Thanks for reviewing, I hope you are in good health when you read this! Tell your mom I'm sorry I kept you up!   
  
lemon drop: Thanks for the review! And thanks for telling me what parts you particularly liked! ** I must not be a normal girl. Every time I see a baby picture of me I wince.   
  
Little House Girl: Thanks for reviewing! ** This story will end soon and "A Sirius Situation" will be set in fifth year. (It won't cover all of fifth year, I don't have enough time.) ** Pairings will start getting serious in that story.   
  
Reyna: Thanks for the review! ** Sorry, Harry's going to get really sick after chapter nine. ** Glad I'm managing to keep a balance of emotions!  
  
Hi, Alla! I'm writing as fast as I can! Thank you for reviewing! ** I'm glad that Ron's reactions feel right to you! ** Thanks for the compliments on my Verbose Vending machines! ** More is coming!  
  
AngelOnFire: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the story! ** I work very hard at hanging those cliffs! I'm rather notorious in my circle. ** Thank you for all the compliments! You really made my day with them!  
  
Alina: Thanks for reviewing! ** The title for chapter seventeen is the conclusion of the quote that I used for the title of chapter sixteen. "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agly." It is frequently updated to " The best laid plans of mice and men go oft awry." I figured if my characters could quote Shakespeare, so can I. ** Sorry, Helga Dumbledore Handwerker isn't going to have a very big role in this story. ** Harry got his messy hair from his grandmother. What else could they call her? ** Thanks for the compliment on my wizarding jigsaw puzzle! Half the reason I wrote the story was to use them! ** Oh, yes, becoming an Animagus is quite tricky. You'll see it wasn't as easy as it seemed here.  
  
Lady Cinnibar: Thanks for reviewing here as well as at Sugarquill. ** I have a bad memory, too. That's why I got into computers! ** See you at Sugarquill!   
  
pegoheart144: Thanks for the review! ** And yes, that's exactly why I had Ron decide to go into medicine. It's not something his brothers have done!   
  
Serz Musashi: Thanks for reviewing! I'll check your story out as soon as I can!   
  
maggie : Thanks for reviewing! I hope those are happy faces now! *  
  
NengSki: Thanks for all the compliments! I'm glad the story works for you! I've been thinking about this since I saw the first movie! ** I figured the Grangers couldn't be boring, not with a daughter like Hermione!  
  
Allison: Thanks for reviewing! ** Glad you like Ron's Animagus form!  
  
Galadriel7: Thanks for reviewing! The "Gang Aft Agly" is from Shakespeare: "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agly." ** I like your name, is it from Visionaries?   
  
Bucky: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I hope this revives you! ** Thanks for reviewing! Reviews save lives, too!  
  
Reyna: Thanks for the compliments! Glad you found the story funny. ** Yes, the resemblance between Ron and Rupert was intentional!   
  
Pseudonym Sylphmuse: Thanks for the review! ** Glad you like my Spitfire!Ginny! ** Good point! I'd forgotten that Ron's wand had a unicorn hair in it! ** Glad you like the ghost of Harry's grandfather and my take on Neville, Pansy and Millicent!   
  
LileeAlina: Hello, again! What a pretty new name you have!  
  
Skuert : Thank you! Hope you like the grand finale!  
  
Alla: I'm back!  
  
Gunsmoke: Thanks for reviewing! ** Hermione and Ginny won't get their animal forms for a while. ** Amen! The New Marauders are in the house!  
  



	19. No End of Surprises

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

****

Chapter 19: No End of Surprises

The Horror:  
  
Until Hermione's horrifying discovery, the weekend before Harry's birthday was quite pleasant. Friday morning, Ron had arrived in his freshly laundered uniform and carrying an enormous package.  
  
"What is _that_!?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"It's your birthday present, you prat," Ron said cheerfully. "I made it, with Dad's help. I hope you like it."  
  
"Well, give it here," Harry said, holding out his hands eagerly.  
  
Ron laughed at him. "Your birthday is on _Monday_! You can't open it until then!"  
  
"What? You mean you're going to make me look at that and wonder for _two days_?" Harry slumped back on his pillows, crossed his arms and sulked.  
  
"Yes," Ron smirked.   
  
Mrs. Weasley bustled in, wearing blue robes with daisies all around the hems. Harry had never seen her in such a pretty outfit before and he complimented her on it.  
  
"Thank you, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said happily. "Ginny found this in the attic and I managed to fix it up a bit. It makes me feel pretty again." She patted her hair and smiled.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley, you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met," Harry said with complete sincerity.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, but fortunately, his mother was too busy blushing to notice.  
  
"Thank you, Harry, how sweet of you to say so!" She planted a little kiss on the top of his head. "I've been talking to your doctors and they said that it would be all right to have a little party for you. What flavor of ice cream do you want?"  
  
A little dazed, Harry shook his head. A party? For him? He hadn't even thought about a party. He thought he'd be lucky to get some cards and maybe a present or two.  
  
"I know the flavour you should get," Ron said. "Florean Fortescue just created treacle-flavoured ice cream. We have _got_ to try that."  
  
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Harry said. He licked his lips as if expecting the treacle ice cream to appear out of thin air.  
  
"Treacle ice cream it is, then," Mrs. Weasley said. "Well, I have to be off on some errands. I'll see you about five, dear. And Harry, Ginny will be here Sunday. Oh and she'll be here on Monday, of course."  
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "I appreciate everything you've done."  
  
"You're welcome, dear," Mrs. Weasley kissed him on the cheek and bustled out of the room  
  
"I can't believe you said Mum was beautiful," Ron snickered.  
  
"Why? She is!" Harry said.  
  
Ron laughed harder. "It was like you were trying to flirt with her. I mean, she's _married_!"  
  
"Who's married?" Hermione asked as she came in.   
  
"My mum," Ron said. "Harry was flirting with her."  
  
"I was _not_!" Harry said crossly. "I just complimented her, is all. You don't have to make such a big thing about it." He thought that this would be a good time to tell them more about the _Animagus Survival Guide_. He thought that Hermione would like seeing Nicely break down Transfiguration spells into their component parts. Assuming that Nicely would cooperate, that is.  
  
"That was sweet of you, Harry," Hermione said. "Girls like to hear compliments, every now and then, even mums."  
  
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione distracted both Harry and Ron with her horrifying news. "Did you know that St. Mungo's has a _library_?" she exclaimed, beaming  
  
"She'll be getting sick every summer herself now," Ron muttered.  
  
Harry "coughed" so hard that he had to cover his face with his sheet.  
  
Hermione glared at both of them.   
  
Remembering what happened to Nicely, Ron flinched and Harry pulled his blankets all the way over his head.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm not going to set you on fire! I keep _telling_ you, I didn't set that book on fire. Nicely set herself on fire. Why don't you believe me!" Hermione was going red in the face, and it wasn't from embarrassment.  
  
"We believe you, Hermione," Ron said, wondering what that particular shade of red was called. "But it's only common sense not to anger someone who can glare like!" He decided he liked it, whatever it was. It had just enough purple to really be interesting.  
  
"You mean, you actually cracked open a dictionary and found out what 'common sense' means?" Hermione asked grimly. She took a few deep breaths and her colour started to subside.  
  
"Who wants to be common?" Harry said from under his blankets. "I bet your Animagus form is a basilisk."  
  
"Cool!" Ron said. "You'll be able to talk to Harry in Parseltongue. Just one thing, next time, petrify Filch instead of his cat!"  
  
"I am NOT a basilisk!" Hermione said hotly. "Honestly! You boys are such…"  
  
"Boys?" Harry asked. He peeked out.  
  
"HON-EST-LY! Come out from under there! You call yourself a Gryffindor?"  
  
"I've never called myself a Gryffindor," Harry countered. "Name one occasion when I have."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn't, offhand, recall an occasion when Harry had called himself a Gryffindor.   
  
Ron snickered. However, if he could remember an occasion when Harry called himself a Gryffindor, he kept it to himself. "Anyway, I doubt that Animagi are going to be on the O.W.L.s," Hermione said. "We really should start studying for them. I hear they're frightfully difficult."  
  
"Oo, you mean there's a chance that you might, possibly, get a question wrong?" Ron said.  
  
Hermione glared at him.  
  
"How are we supposed to study for the O.W.L.s?" Harry asked. "We don't have any study guides or anything."  
  
"The library here has a whole section on the O.W.L.s, including practice exams!" Hermione said enthusiastically.  
  
"No!" Ron exclaimed. He flung himself between Harry and Hermione, arms outstretched. "Harry is _sick_. He doesn't need the extra stress!"   
  
Harry will be sicker if he flunks his O.W.L.s," Hermione said severely. "You want to pass, don't you Harry?"  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione said scandalized.  
  
"Of course I want to pass," Harry said placatingly. "Right now, I'm more interested in finding some way for my grandfather to write to me. He can't use a regular quill. Do you know of a way for a ghost to write to a living person? I have a million questions to ask and he's the only one with answers!"  
  
Hermione's expression softened at once. Ron felt a pang of… something.   
  
"I'm sure I've read something that would help," she said. "Didn't you study anything about spirit writing in Divination?"  
  
"You're joking," Ron said. "There's no way that crazy old bat would teach anything like that! It actually sounds _useful_!"  
  
Hermione sighed. Before she could lecture them on either taking Divination or for not wanting to study for their O.W.L.s, Harry said. "Maybe we could look up spirit writing in this library."  
  
Hermione brightened. "It might even be in the Divination O.W.L.s," she said happily. "I be there are a lot of useful spells in the O.W.L. tests."  
  
"I wouldn't bet on it," Ron said gloomily. "Even Percy said most of the spells on the O.W.L. were bloody useless."  
  
"Ron! Language!" Hermione said.  
  
"That's what he _said_," Ron sulked.  
  
"I can't believe that Percy…"  
  
"I wonder if the Patronus charm will be on the Charms O.W.L.," Harry interjected hurriedly.  
  
Hermione beamed at him. "Actually, that's worth extra points. It will be worth extra points on your Charms N.E.W.T, as well. You should do _brilliantly_ in Charms!"  
  
"Considering how hard many curses and counter curses we learned for the Third Task, we should all pass Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. with flying colors," Ron said.  
  
"There's more to Defense Against the Dark Arts than curses and counter curses," Harry said.  
  
To Hermione's relief, Harry didn't seem to object to the mention of the Third Task. "We can look at the Cliffs Notes for the O.W.L.s to see what we should concentrate on. As you say, we've mastered a lot of defensive and offensive spells, so the actual spell casting should come relatively easily. For Defense against the Dark Arts, we may just need to concentrate on strategy."  
  
That sounded better to Ron. He reckoned that if strategy was involved, he ought to be able to beat even Hermione. After all, he beat her at chess regularly. "Well, okay, then," he said. "I reckon it won't hurt us to study some. That Potions O.W.L. is going to be especially difficult."  
  
Hermione looked like she might faint from shock.  
  
Ron suppressed a grin. If he had known that agreeing to study was going to throw Hermione for a loop, he'd have said 'yes' a long time ago. Of course, if he was going to pursue this Mediwizard Apprentice idea seriously, he really needed to put his nose to the grindstone.  
  
That didn't mean he couldn't give Hermione a hard time about it. His grin became unsuppressed.  
  
  
The Wand-smith:  
  
The weekend quickly became filled with O.W.L. preparation books and visitors bearing gifts. Harry wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione about Sirius, Nicely and Animagi, but the opportunity never came up in all the bustle. He didn't dare bring up Sirius when there were so many people dropping by who might overhear. Hermione didn't seem to want to discuss what her Animagus form might be. Harry was surprised that she hadn't flung herself into researching the possibilities, but he supposed either she was distracted by the O.W.L.s or she already had an idea and wasn't ready to discuss it.  
  
The first visitor, after the Weasleys, was Mr. Ollivander. He examined Lily's wand with something that appeared to be a jeweler's loupe. "I remember this wand well. Willow and phoenix feather, ten and a quarter inches. Excellent for Charm work, much like your own, Mr. Potter." Ollivander held the wand at arms length and gave it a swish. "Hum, yes, Mr. Potter, this is reparable. However, the cost of repairing it would be _twice_ that of buying a new wand."  
  
Ron winced.  
  
Ollivander pale silver eyes met Harry's bright green gaze. "Which is, of course, why your mother chose to buy a new wand."  
  
"I don't need a new wand," Harry said. "My own is fine, thank you." He thought of how his wand had saved his life because it was a brother to Voldemort's. He told himself not to think about that.  
  
"Erm, no, you don't. you've been taking excellent care of your wand, really. And yes, I understand the sentimental value of this wand. Don't worry, Mr. Potter, I'll make sure it's in top shape by the end of August." His unblinking silvery eyes held a knowing look.  
  
Harry wished Mr. Ollivander wouldn't look at him like that. He almost suspected that the wand-maker knew the real reason he wanted the wand repaired. Sirius couldn't openly buy a wand, which meant the Animagi had to be using wands of dubious origins. His mum's wand had to be better than that, didn't it?  
  
He was glad when Ollivander left. "I wonder how I'll get it if it's not done by September first?" he said, mostly to himself.  
  
"You're kidding," Ron said. "There are any number of Weasleys around to fetch and carry for you. Mum would be happy to have an excuse to come back to Hogwarts and have somebody cook for her."  
  
Harry leaned back in his bed. "Thanks," he said. He wished there was some way to pay the Weasleys back for all their kindnesses to him, but nothing came to mind.  
  
  
Introducing: The PROWLs:  
  
The O.W.L. marathon started when Neville Longbottom dropped by with some Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills. He found himself recruited to run to the library to fetch some Potions books so they could take a PROWL (Practice O.W.L.) in Potions.  
  
Seamus dropped by Friday afternoon with a basketful of Chocolate Frogs and Chocoballs. He was immediately roped into running to the library to fetch some books on O.W.L. strategies because the results of the Potions practice O.W.L. had been miserable. Even Hermione hadn't made passing marks.  
  
"I reckon we should start with an easier subject," Ron said. "Just so we can get a feel for the… _darned_… PROWLs."  
  
Because he hadn't actually said 'darned', Ron was sent to the library for practice O.W.L.s for Astronomy and History of Magic.   
  
"Astronomy should be the easiest," Hermione said. "It's the most straightforward. And if Binns hasn't been teaching the O.W.L.s all along, then I'm a peppermint humbug."  
  
It turned out that Hermione was _not_ a peppermint humbug. Binn's lectures followed the practice O.W.L. so closely it was downright frightening. As Hermione surmised, the Astronomy PROWL was very straightforward.  
  
They failed, anyway. Although Hermione did not fail _miserably_ on the History of Magic PROWL, probably thanks to her heroic efforts to stay awake in class. She was the only person Harry knew who regularly took coherent notes in that class. Not to mention that she was the only fifth year Gryffindor who actually made a habit of studying her notes over the summer holiday.  
  
"You should get bonus points for being the only student to actually ask Binns a question," Harry commented.  
  
"_We_ should get bonus points for History of Magic," Ron snorted. "_We're_ the ones who found where the Chamber of Secrets was keeping itself."  
  
Seamus left with a haunted expression look on his face and a list of books to pick up before Tuesday. "If Astronomy is the _easy_ O.W.L., the banshee will be screamin' around my house come June!" he mourned. He looked at his book list and winced. On the other hand, Hermione _was_ the only one who'd even come close to passing one of the practice tests. He'd decided that he'd better listen to her.  
  
Saturday morning, Parvati and Padma Patil dropped by with a bouquet of day lilies and Chocolate Frogs. Their attempts to flirt with Harry and Ron (respectively) were thwarted when Hermione conscripted them into going to the library to pick up books on spirit writing and the practice O.W.L. for Divination.  
  
Harry and Ron were relieved. They didn't understand why the Patils were interested in them, considering how badly the Yule Ball had gone. But the reason they were relieved when the flirting ended was they could tell that Hermione was getting annoyed. They didn't want her doing the Fire-starting Glare of Extreme Huffiness at the Patil sisters.  
  
Neville dropped by with Peppermint Toads and Chocolate Frogs while the Patils were in the library and he made the mistake of waiting around to say 'hello' to them. Hermione sent him off to the cafeteria get tea for the Divination exam.  
  
Hermione read the books on spirit writing while the other five tried the Divination PROWL. They all failed miserably. The Patils were aghast. Parvati because Divination was her absolute favorite class and Padma because she'd never received less than a 95.5% in anything in her entire school career. The Patils forgot about flirting in an effort to find out where they had gone wrong.  
  
Lavender Brown arrived around noon with a box of Chocolate Frogs and a carton of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She declined to go to the library, so Hermione had to fetch the books for the Care of Magical Creatures Practice O.W.L. herself. She managed to finagle a cart out of the librarian so she could bring back "enough" books to make the trip worthwhile.  
  
Neville almost killed Ron when he knocked over the tower of textbooks.  
  
Ron and Neville vowed that they would _never_ allow Hermione go to the library alone.  
  
"It would be ungentlemanly of us," Neville pointed out.  
  
"Not to mention masochistic," Ron added. "If not downright suicidal."  
  
Hermione glared and Ron shut up.  
  
"Don't look at me, I'm sick," Harry said. "Cough," he added to cement his position as The-Boy-Who-Was-Too-Sick-To-Run-To-The-Library.  
  
The Care of Magical Creatures PROWL tried to eat Lavender's charm bracelet ("Because it's glittering," Hermione explained.)   
  
Lavender failed the practice Divination O.W.L. even worse than Parvati had, which filled Parvati with ill-concealed glee. (It turned out that Parvati and Lavender were _very_ competitive in this subject, much to everyone's shock. No one had ever suspected that Lavender and Parvati were competitive in anything.)   
  
To add insult to injury, Harry kept getting beans that tasted like Dudley's diet food. "How do they _know_?" he grumbled.  
  
"When Bertie Bott says every flavor, he means _every_ _flavor_," Ron said unsympathetically.  
  
When the visiting girls left, Padma was talking about owling Penelope Clearwater about study tips for O.W.L.s. "She made it look so easy!" Padma said. "She'll help us, I'm sure."  
  
"Maybe _we_ should ask Penelope for help," Ron said. "She's Percy's girlfriend, she might have a fondness for redheads."  
  
"We could ask _Percy_ for help," Hermione suggested.   
  
Ron was so shocked that he knocked over the Tower of Textbooks.  
  
"I wonder how Cho did," murmured Harry, not realizing he was speaking aloud. He wondered if Cedric had helped her study for her O.W.L.s. Poor Cedric, he never got the chance to fret over his N.E.W.T.s. He probably would have done well, too.  
  
He got rather silent then, leaving the others trying to think of a way to cheer him up. The Gryffindors were actually glad when Pansy and Millicent dropped by looking for a book that Hermione had checked out of the library. The surprise of their arrival brought Harry back to himself. He wasn't quite used to the idea of civilized Slytherins.  
  
"Are you planning on becoming a book-monger?" Pansy asked Hermione ironically.  
  
"I can think of worse ideas," Hermione said facetiously. She finished piling the last of the library books back onto the cart. "So, what are you going to fall back on if _you_ fail _your_ O.W.L.s?"  
  
"My _stunning_ good looks, of course," Pansy said dryly. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Either that or I'll take up snake charming. Say, Potter, do they have an O.W.L. for Parseltongue?"  
  
Harry just hissed at her.  
  
Pansy and Millicent managed to pass the Potions practice O.W.L. by the skin of their teeth; which had Hermione grinding hers in frustration. She wasn't used to being outdone in anything. She was especially disgruntled to be outdone by Slytherins.  
  
Hermione felt a little better when the Slytherins didn't do as well she did on the Charms PROWL. None of them actually _passed_ it, but it was still nice to know she could beat them at _something_!  
  
Millicent and Pansy declined to take any more practice tests and took the Charms book they'd been looking for. When they returned it, they dropped of a box of Red Hot Cinnamon Snakes and a booklet entitled, "The Slytherin Guide to Causing Students of Other Houses to Fail O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s."  
  
"This will prove handy," Hermione said approvingly. "At least we'll have an idea of what Malfoy will be up to next year."  
  
Dean owled a get-well card and a Honeydukes' coupon good for a half-dozen boxes of Chocolate Frogs.   
  
Neville commented that it was obvious that Dean was going to be a Prefect next year because he showed the most common sense by not coming.  
  
Hermione glared at him. "You've been hanging around Ron too long," she accused.  
  
"He'll be doing a lot more of that this summer," Ron said cheerfully. "I'll have plenty of time to corrupt him!"  
  
Neville smiled blandly and said nothing.  
  
Harry retreated under his blankets with another 'coughing fit.'  
  
  
On the PROWL:  
  
Every time he was alone, Harry brought Nicely out and coaxed her into showing him more about Animagi. Her first chapter was gone, but that didn't matter. The first chapter was the one that showed what a wizard's animal form was. Harry suspected that was the chapter that had been putting bits of Nicely inside of people.   
  
The missing pages of the second chapter didn't seem to be too important. The second chapter dealt with the horrors of mismanaged animal transfigurations. Harry figured he had enough gruesome examples. He probably didn't need to see everything. Besides, he could always get Hermione to fill him in on whatever was missing.   
  
The third chapter started with the actual transfiguration. Harry didn't understand why everybody made such a big fuss over turning into an animal. Between what he'd learned from Sirius and what he was reading in Nicely, it seemed relatively easy. It certainly made more sense than Potions! He was very tempted to follow Nicely's advice and do a little more practicing. However, he had promised Sirius that he wouldn't try it until Sirius gave him a few more lessons.  
  
Harry made sure that Nicely was out of sight Sunday morning. He didn't want Ginny to realize he'd been studying it again. He didn't want Hermione to know that he'd been studying Animal Transfiguration instead of 'Plum to Seed to Bud to Plum' transfigurations.  
  
When Ginny arrived, she found Hogwarts' Dream Team plus Neville preparing to take a Defense Against Dark Arts O.W.L.   
  
She entered rather hesitantly and wondered if it would be all right if she sat on the foot of Harry's bed. He didn't seem angry at her for almost skewering his… ahh… skewering him a few days ago. She still couldn't believe that she'd gone overboard like that!   
  
Hermione had said it was probably the fault of the Distraction spell. (Ginny's temper tantrum had definitely distracted everybody from the trunk. At least it had for a while.) Ginny thought that the older girl was just being nice.   
  
"How's it going?" she said in as bright a voice as she could manage. However, her eyes were nervous as they darted from Harry to the others, then back to Harry.  
  
If Neville noticed anything, he apparently attributed it to Ginny's usual behavior in the presence of Harry. "It could be worse," he said. He produced a chair from somewhere, unintentionally ruining her chances of sitting on Harry's bed.  
  
"Could be _worse_?" Hermione moaned.  
  
"Things are that bad?" Ginny asked sympathetically.   
  
She placed her packages on the foot of Harry's bed and sat down on the chair that Neville had apparently conjured up. The bedside table was covered with candy. "I hope you do well on your O.W.L.s, I'm going to need your help next year." She looked up at the Tower of Textbooks that Hermione had borrowed from the library and decided not to say anything for fear of making it angry. The tower looked like it might want a virgin sacrifice or two in revenge for what had happened to Nicely.  
  
"If we're still around next year," Harry said glumly. "What do you have there?" he asked.  
  
"Erm, your birthday presents," Ginny said diffidently. "And some homemade fudge. Mum's been teaching me how to cook."  
  
Harry turned the color of strawberries. "You didn't need to get me anything," he said. "I've never bought you anything."  
  
Ron choked.  
  
"Hey! It's not like I _bought_ the cat," Harry protested. "I didn't even buy the cat carrier." He opened the fudge and handed it around.  
  
"I just wanted to get you something," Ginny said, scuffing her toe on the floor. "It's not much, really."   
  
"If you'd ever tasted her cooking before, you'd know how true that was!" Ron muttered.  
  
Harry glared at Ron, and Ginny felt her skin tingle. He was defending her!  
  
Harry looked away and Ron winked at Ginny. Hermione grinned. Neville raised his eyebrows but said nothing.  
  
Harry cleared his throat, choosing to be unaware of all the matchmaking going on in the room. "You already gave me the Knitten Kitten," he said. He pointed to his school trunk, where his Knitten Kitten Named Mitten was presiding over a court of Chocolate Frogs and Peppermint Toads.  
  
"You gave Ginny a cat?" Neville asked.  
  
"A lovely part-Kneazle calico," Ginny said happily.  
  
"Cool," Neville said. "I like cats, but Gran's allergic. That's why my Uncle Algie gave me Trevor." He pulled the toad from his pocket. "I may let him take the O.W.L.s for me, he'd probably do better."   
  
Trevor blinked.  
  
"He looks like Binns," Ron said.  
  
"Nah, he looks more intelligent than Binns," Harry said.  
  
"So, what subject are you working on?" Ginny tried sound casual in the face of the evidence that Harry Potter was Getting Interested In Her. He didn't seem to hold any grudge over her behavior with the obnoxious book, either. Life was good.  
  
"We were going to try the Defense Against The Dark Arts PROWL next," Neville told her. "Do you want to try?"  
  
"Don't worry if you do badly," Ron said benignly. "We've been doing miserably. Even Hermione."  
  
Ginny was the only one to get a passing score.  
  
"Now that's just plain sick," Ron said.   
  
They sent Ginny to the library three times for books, and to the Verbose Vending Machines twice for drinks. (They had plenty of chocolate to sustain them.) They refused to let Ginny take any more Practice O.W.L.s, saying it couldn't possibly be good for her mental health.  
  
"It's certainly not good for _mine_!" Ron grumbled.  
  
Ginny didn't argue. In fact, she was very sympathetic to the laboring soon-to-be fifth years. It would have been very touching, except she could be heard snickering every time she left the room on an errand.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Granger came by Sunday noon with root beer that they'd obtained from Merlin-knows-where and Chocolate Frogs. They watched the practice sessions with carefully concealed amusement. They did have several useful tips on taking tests. "Don't ever second guess yourself," Rupert advised. "Unless you suddenly remember the answer, go with your first instinct, because it's probably a message from your subconscious."  
  
Then, of course, they had to tell horror stories about the kinds of tests that dentists had to take on a continuing basis. "We have to keep up with the latest developments," Emma explained.  
  
Using some of the Grangers' tricks, the four Fifth years managed to pass the Astronomy O.W.L. There was great rejoicing and they decided to spend the rest of the day working on Harry's wizarding jigsaw puzzles. Even Hermione was ready to take a break from Practice O.W.L.s.   
  
"Obviously, there's a trick to taking them that we haven't learned yet," she decided. "We can start practicing again after Harry's birthday."  
  
  
Monday, Monday  
  
Harry woke up Monday, July 31st, with the happy knowledge that he was going to have a birthday party. Plus, Hermione wasn't going to force him to do another PROWL until Tuesday. Best of all, he wasn't going to see the Dursleys until next June.   
  
Besides, there was the large package Ron had bought on Friday, combined with the three smaller packages that Ginny had brought on Sunday. Harry had never had occasion to wait to open his presents before. It was nice to lie on his bed and stare at the gaily wrapped packages and wonder what was in them. The day was destined to be full of surprises.  
  
The first pleasant surprise was the morning examination by Dr. Opal. It hadn't been nearly as… intrusive… as the first one that Harry had endured after waking up.   
  
Hagrid and Ron came in as Dr. Opal was finishing up. "You're doing fine," she said. "And you're much better than your grandmother was at taking your medicine."  
  
She gave Hagrid a severe look. "I trust that _you_ are taking your medicine at night?" she said. "Even _your_ constitution can be damaged by overexposure to an ESA. I want you getting a _full_ eight to nine hours of sleep every night, _Mr_. Hagrid. And no alcohol!"  
  
"Yes, Dr. Opal," Hagrid said meekly  
  
The last time Harry heard Hagrid talk in that tone was before his first year, when the half-giant had told Ollivander that he wasn't using his wand any more. He lied then, so Harry was suspicious now.  
  
"Have a petite four? Madame Maxime sent 'em fer Harry," Hagrid clearly wanted to change the subject. He opened a box and held it out.  
  
"Why, thank you," Dr. Opal said, accepting one of the dainty confections. "Keep up the good work, Mr. Potter, and don't eat too much ice cream. The cold won't do your stomach much good." She gave Hagrid another stern look before she left. "Remember, Hagrid, eight to nine hours of sleep!"  
  
"She sounds like my mum," Ron said, helping himself to a petite four.  
  
"Hagrid, why aren't you taking your potion?" Harry asked.  
  
Hagrid looked embarrassed. "It tastes awfu'," he confessed. "Besides, yeh can' take it wi' whiskey, an' I druther have the whiskey."  
  
Harry shook his head but was prevented from answering when Mr. Parkinson arrived to check.  
  
Hagrid offered the chirurgeon a petite four. "From me girlfriend," he said, almost shyly.  
  
"Thank you, don't mind if I do," Mr. Parkinson accepted a cake and handed Harry a box of Chocolate Frogs. "I don't know why I feel obliged to give you a birthday present after you cost me the price of a good supper at the Black Cat Club, Mr. Potter," he said severely.  
  
Harry actually blushed until he caught the twinkle in Mr. Parkinson's eyes that told him that he was being teased. "How did I do that?" he asked.  
  
"I bet Dr. Opal that I would never learn like a quote 'spoiled celebrity, a Muggle-born witch or one of Arthur Weasley's sons.'"  
  
Ron's eyebrows went up and Hagrid frowned.  
  
"No offense," Mr. Parkinson added hastily. "I've learned my lesson."  
  
"I'm not offended," Harry spoke quickly to forestall the angry statement he could see forming on Hagrid's lips. "I would probably find it difficult to like a 'spoiled celebrity' myself. I think you might owe Hermione an apology though."  
  
"I agree about apologizing to Hermione," Ron said. "But I'm not offended for myself. I know you and Dad never got along. You were in school together, weren't you?"  
  
"He was a few years ahead of me, but yes, we did overlap some," Mr. Parkinson said.  
  
"Did you go to school at the same time as my parents?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
Mr. Parkinson shook his head. Then he amended that. "If I did, I don't remember them. I think not, though, I'm pretty sure that they started after I left."  
  
"They started the same year yeh left," Hagrid said. "Yeh prob'ly jes' didn't notice 'em. Lily was a quiet one her firs' couple'a years and James din't get into trouble too much until his secon' year." Hagrid grinned.   
  
There was an brief silence. "Well, I c'n see why yeh'd change yer mind abou' likin' them kids," Hagrid said. "They kind o' grow on yeh, unexpected like."  
  
"You make us sound like fungi," Harry complained.  
  
Ron grinned evilly. "Come to think of it, I think I saw your picture in our Herbology PROWL," he said. "It would explain that hair of yours, anyway." He reached out and grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and tugged.  
  
Harry hit him with a pillow. "Speaking of my hair," he said. "Is it still white?" He ran his fingers through his always messy hair and made it worse.  
  
"You still have some white streaks," Mr. Parkinson said. "But with the _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhaging dealt with, you shouldn't be getting any more. Wizarding medicine has advanced quite a bit since your grandmother's day."  
  
Harry blinked at him. "Since my grandmother's day?" he repeated. "Mr. Parkinson, are you saying that my grandmother had this… Kirty-muck-a thing?" He remembered what Dr. Opal had said about his grandmother not taking her medicine and felt queasy.  
  
Mr. Parkinson winced. "I shouldn't have said that," he said. Then he sighed. "Yes, Mr. Potter. There are indications that the _Kirt-ti-muk-ha_ hemorrhaging is what led to Tatiana Potter's early death. The theory is that she never fully recovered from the shock of her husband's murder."  
  
Harry's eyes went wide. "You mean, I'm going to…" he saw Ron turn pale and stopped in mid-thought.  
  
"NO! Yer not goin' ter die!" Hagrid blurted. "Yer goin' ter get all better, righ'?" He looked at Mr. Parkinson anxiously.  
  
Mr. Parkinson held up his hand. "Calm yourself, Mr. Potter, Hagrid. _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhaging isn't necessarily fatal, if properly treated. We caught it in the early stages and, as I said, wizarding medicine has advanced quite a bit. You shouldn't suffer from any relapses. In fact, you had such a mild case that you probably wouldn't have suffered anything worse than some stomachaches and white hairs if that ESA hadn't pushed you over the edge."  
  
"How can the ESA make him sick?" Ron asked. "It only affects your emotional state, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes, but Mr. Potter's emotional state was 'extremely stressed,'" Mr. Parkinson explained. "And by increasing that, the ESA made the _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhage act up."  
  
"How did you know that I was stressed?" Harry asked.  
  
"An educated guess, given what I know of the Tri-Wizard Tournament," Mr. Parkinson said. "You are _not_ the first Tri-Wizard champion to come down with this, either."  
  
Harry thought about asking what had happened to the other Champions, but decided that he really didn't want to know. After all, nobody said that _all_ the deaths of previous Tournaments had happened _during_ the tasks.  
  
"One thing that I cannot stress enough, Harry, if you have any symptoms, any at _all_, from more white hairs to stomach cramps, let somebody know." Mr. Parkinson gave Harry a serious look. "I do hope I don't need to tell you to see Madam Pomfrey if you start hacking up blood, do I?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I mean, no, I'll go to Madame Pomfrey if I start feeling sick that way again," Harry said with a small shudder. "I don't want to die."  
  
Ron felt oddly relieved to hear that. He made a mental note to tell Hermione the first chance that he got.  
  
"Good boy," Mr. Parkinson said. "I believe that is the main difference between you and your grandmother. Your grandmother didn't want to go on without your grandfather." There was also a rumour that Tatiana Potter had died of shame because her only son had married a Muggle-born, but York Parkinson would have rather hexed his own tongue out than to repeat that.  
  
"I see," Harry said thoughtfully. "Who killed my grandfather?"  
  
"We aren't sure about that, either," Mr. Parkinson said sadly. "The current belief is that he was one of the first victims of You-Know-Who. Tiberius Potter was treating some people who had been attacked by dark wizards, possibly some of the first Death Eaters. Your grandfather managed to buy enough time for the security guards to arrive. The attackers were killed in the fight. His patients couldn't tell us why they'd been attacked."  
  
"Do they know why, now?" Ron asked.  
  
"They was Muggle-borns who worked fer the Min'stry," Hagrid said.   
  
"Two of the more vocal pro-Muggle activists," Mr. Parkinson added.  
  
"Oh. Are they still alive?" Harry asked.  
  
"As far as I know, they are," Mr. Parkinson said. "One resigned from the Ministry and emigrated shortly after the attack. Possibly due to threats against his family. The other was made of sterner stuff. He stayed in the Ministry until You-Know-Who was defeated."  
  
"Oh." Harry said.  
  
"When Tiberius' ghost appeared, he was questioned, but he couldn't recall any details of the attack. Only that his last sensation was of extreme cold," Mr. Parkinson hesitated. "If it's any consolation, at least it had been a quick and painless death."  
  
"Yeah, that's something," Harry said. He tried not to think about how his parents had died. He felt a stab of pity for Hagrid and Sirius who had seen the aftermath of the attack.  
  
"Don' thin' too hard on it," Hagrid said gently. "Yeh need to learn to empty them thoughts from yer head."  
  
"He's very good at emptying his head," Ron said.   
  
Harry glared. "Bugger off, Weasley, I get enough of that from the Dursleys," he said grumpily.  
  
Mr. Parkinson raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Not all Muggles are as… decent… as Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said. He emphasized 'decent' because he could not think of a word that adequately described how he felt about the Grangers' kindness to him. He was equally frustrated whenever he tried to put his feelings about the Weasleys into words.  
  
"There aren't a lot of people in the wizarding world, either, who are as nice as Hermione's parents," Ron said.  
  
"I hope I qualify as one of the few," Mr. Parkinson said.  
  
"You are in _my_ book," Ron said earnestly. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his beloved new uniform.  
  
"Mine, too," Harry added, deciding that anybody Ron liked that much had to be all right.  
  
"I'm really glad you got me into the Honey Badgers," Ron added.  
  
"It was to my benefit, too," Mr. Parkinson said with a smile. "Don't forget, we horrible Slytherin are _always_ looking out for our own interests, and the more intelligent help we can get for free, the better off we are." He grinned at them for a moment. "Seriously, we can always use more help around here. Will you consider staying on after Harry is released?"  
  
"Sure!" Ron said enthusiastically. He was pleased at being asked because he'd been nervous that he wouldn't be good enough.  
  
"How about you, Harry?" Mr. Parkinson said. "And, if Miss Granger can forgive my early prejudice about Muggle-borns, do you suppose she'd like to join? I would be happy to buy you both uniforms, too. I will also be happy to help with your Practice O.W.L.s. I understand they aren't going well."  
  
Ron flinched, but Harry didn't seem to pay much attention to the offer to buy the uniforms. Ron forced himself to relax. After all, Harry was always buying things for people. He probably wouldn't think twice about a doctor offering to buy uniforms for Honey Badgers. There were times when Ron was glad that his two best friends were still relatively ignorant about wizarding customs.  
  
Harry, for his part, was thinking very hard about this Honey Badger business. On one hand, cleaning bedpans and scrubbing floors for the rest of summer, even with magic, seemed like a month long detention. On the other hand, he'd be spending a lot of time with Ron, Hermione and maybe Ginny.  
  
It would be better than scrubbing floors and cleaning out the attic for the Dursleys, he decided. He looked at his mother's trunk. Even finding the trunk hadn't made up for the way the Dursleys had treated him all these years.  
  
"Erm, I dunno," he managed after several minutes of silence.  
  
"There's no need to hurry your decision," Mr. Parkinson said. "You'll be with us for another week, at least. Nobody will blame you if you want to spend the rest of the summer recuperating. Even if you came to work here, you'd be on very limited duty. Might not be very interesting for you."  
  
"I have a question about the Herbology PROWL," Ron said. He picked up one of the O.W.L. preparation booklets. "This says that snapdragons are dangerous, but Harry and Hermione say that even Muggles grow snapdragons."  
  
Hagrid chuckled. "If yer goin' ter start talkin' O.W.L.s, then it's time fer me ter be leavin'. Them things give me a headache."  
  
"You never did pass any O.W.L.s, did you Hagrid?" Mr. Parkinson asked.  
  
"Well, I got me Honorary O.W.L. in Care o' Magical Critters," Hagrid said. "I bin takin' care of interestin' critters fer years, includin' Fluffy, so the Board decided ter pass me on that one."  
  
"Congratulations on the H.O.W.L.," Ron said.  
  
"Glad all your hard work was recognized," Harry added.  
  
"Thanks, Harry, Ron," Hagrid said with a pleased smile.  
  
Mr. Parkinson muttered something under his breath about wonders never ceasing. Then he smiled, patted Harry's shoulder and swiped a Chocolate Frogs. He and Hagrid took their leave then, debating the merits of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey versus Peebles' Scotch.  
  
"Who would have thought that a Slytherin could be so nice?" Ron asked after their voices had faded.  
  
"Who would have thought that _Pansy Parkinson's _father could be so nice?" Harry returned.  
  
"Actually, Pansy's been sort of nice herself," Ron admitted.  
  
Harry gasped and clutched at his heart. "Don't tell me that Hermione has competition!" he asked in mock horror. "If you decide to dump her, then I'll have to defend her honor, what with her father being a Muggle and… urmph."  
  
The last was due to the Chocolate Frog that Ron had stuffed into his mouth.  
  
"I said she was _nice_, that's all," Ron said. "She's even been helping Neville with Potions over the summer."  
  
"She always struck me as being a nice girl," a thin voice said.  
  
"Grandfather!" Harry said happily, even though the temperature of the room fell alarmingly.  
  
"Hello, Harry," the ghost of Tiberius Potter said.   
  
"Grandfather, this is Ron Weasley," Harry said.  
  
"Please to meet you," Tiberius said. "I am glad that my grandson has made friends with a family noted for loyalty and kindness as well as Gryffindor courage."  
  
Ron blushed. Which was a good thing under the circumstances, as it helped keep his face warm. "Pleased to meet your, sir," he said. "I'm glad Harry's finally been able to meet one of his ancestors." He paused. "That didn't come out right."  
  
"S'okay," Harry said from under his covers. Much as he loved to see his grandfather, he couldn't actually look at Tiberius for more than a few minutes. The cold was just too much for him.  
  
"I wish I could stay," Tiberius said wistfully. "I have a lot of stories to tell you about your father and your grandmother and your great-grandfather."  
  
"And you, I should hope," Harry said from under his blankets.  
  
"I suppose I could remember a few stories about me," Tiberius said. "As long as you don't ask about my death."  
  
"Erm, okay," Ron said. He didn't really want to hear about the violent death of a Potter, anyway. He shivered slightly. His Mediwizard robes were warm enough for the chilly room, but Tiberius' presence was too much for anything short of a parka or a heating charm.  
  
"Right," Harry said. "Is that because you don't want to talk about it or because you still can't?"  
  
"Both." Tiberius sighed. "I must leave now."  
  
"When will you be back?" Harry asked, sitting back upright.  
  
"I'm afraid I won't be able to visit you again," Tiberius said sadly. "I'm not supposed to come near patients."  
  
"How about after I get discharged?" Harry asked. "I might be working as a volunteer here."  
  
"I _might_ be able to visit with you then," Tiberius said. "At least for a few minutes. I wish I could write to you, though. I'd love to keep in touch with you while you're at school. I could ask one of the staff here to write to you for me, but they can't take the cold much, either."  
  
"I see," sighed Harry. He sneezed.  
  
"Maybe Hermione can come up with a way," Ron said. "She's a genius."  
  
"Yes, she is," Harry said before sneezing again.  
  
"Farewell," Tiberius said. He faded out of the room hastily.  
  
Harry sneezed again.   
  
"Bless you," Ron said.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"He seems nice," Ron said thoughtfully. "I hope I see more of him this summer, when I'm working here."  
  
"Good luck," Harry said.  
  
  
Interhouse Rivalry Never Ends, Either  
  
Dr. Opal dropped by with Chocolate Frogs during the Grangers' visit.  
  
"Can't let a Slytherin outdo a Ravenclaw," she said. "Especially not with my history with the Potters."  
  
"Dr. Cressida Opal, this is Mr. Rupert Granger, Mrs. Emma Granger and one of my best friends, Miss Hermione Granger," Harry said. "This is Dr. Opal, she's been looking after me."  
  
Everybody murmured the usual polite phrases at each other.  
  
"I take it you knew Harry's parents?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Yes, in fact, I knew his grandparents, too," Dr. Opal said. "I went to school with his grandparents. I worked with Tiberius and I treated Tatiana during her final illness."  
  
The Grangers winced.  
  
"How did you meet them?" Harry asked, wanting to turn the subject away from unpleasant deaths.  
  
"Well, it was my third year," Dr. Opal replied. "Tiberius and I had Arithmancy together. We found that we studied well together, so we had our own little study group." She smiled reminiscently. "In fact, we helped each other to gain the Head Boy and Head Girl positions."  
  
"My grandfather was Head Boy?" Harry asked with some dismay.  
  
Dr. Opal patted his arm. "Sorry, I didn't mean to add more stress to your plate. Don't worry about whether or not you become Head Boy," she said. "Just do your best. Nobody has the right to expect you to be as smart, or as handsome… Is that the _time_? I've got work to get back to." She left hurriedly. Harry could have sworn she was blushing. He was sorry that she left before she'd said anything about his grandmother.  
  
Ron snickered. "I think she _fancied_ your grandfather," he said. "Must be that Potter charm at work."  
  
"Ron! Honestly, what's so funny about fancying somebody?" Hermione asked in exasperation. She patted Harry's hand. "Not that you don't have a lot of charm, Harry."  
  
Harry felt his cheeks warming up.  
  
Ron opened his mouth, found he didn't have an answer ready, and shut it again.  
  
Rupert decided it was time to change the subject. "Let's move these books out of the way," Rupert said, gesturing to the Tower of Textbooks. "You won't be using them until tomorrow, anyway."  
  
"Don't remind me," Harry sighed. "Hermione must be related to Oliver Wood. They're both fanatics when it comes to forcing people to work."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe your grandfather had a _little_ more of that Potter charm than you." She said.  
  
  
Happy Birthday, Harry!  
  
Harry's birthday tea was more of a supper, since it started closer to five than to four. Several of the guests had work to do. Ron was the first guest to arrive, because he'd been in Harry's room most of the day. Hermione left to shower and change into her party clothes.  
  
It was the largest birthday part Harry had ever had. Which wasn't as impressive as it might have been, as the only other birthday party he could remember was the one that Sirius had thrown him last week. Aside from Ron and Hermione, the guest list included: Hermione's parents, Ron's parents, Ginny, George, Fred, Hagrid, Neville, Dr. Opal, Mr. Parkinson, Pansy and Millicent.  
  
Many of the guests wore their work uniforms and Hermione thought that Ron looked very mature in his hospital whites. Hermione wore some green robes that Ron wasn't sure about. On one hand, Hermione looked good in them, on the other hand, they were almost the color of Harry's eyes. Ron told himself that it was just a coincidence.   
  
Ginny wore the blue robes that she'd found in the attic. Harry thought she looked good in them, but didn't attach much importance to that. He was so excited to have a real birthday party that he thought that Hermione looked good in green. He even thought the Slytherin girls looked pretty nice in their hospital whites.  
  
The Slytherin girls seemed a bit uncomfortable at first, but Hermione brought out the wizarding jigsaw puzzle (the one with the fountain) and Pansy and Millicent quickly became involved in helping Harry solve it.  
  
Everyone chatted cheerfully as they ate and offered suggestions about how to piece the puzzle together. Harry wondered about their spirit of cooperation until the time came to put in the last piece. Everybody drew back to allow Harry the honor of finishing the puzzle by himself.  
  
On the other hand, they may have wanted to avoid the spray of water that shot out when the last piece of the fountain was put into place.  
  
Harry let out a few descriptive words as he frantically tried to stop the gush of water. One of the adults would have chided him for his language if they hadn't all been laughing so hard.  
  
"Here," Ron said at last. "Just take out a piece." He pulled out a piece and the waterworks stopped.  
  
Harry glared at his guests as best he could with his fringe plastered across his glasses. He knew he had to look absolutely ludicrous, as he could even hear Ginny snickering.  
  
"That was brilliant," George told Hermione. "You are _definitely_ worthy of becoming a Weasley in-law. If Ron doesn't come to his senses soon, I may have to make you an offer myself."  
  
Hermione turned bright red.  
  
George might have said more, but Ron tilted the puzzle a little and put the last piece back in. George jumped when the cold water hit him and he let out a few descriptive words himself.  
  
"George, _language_!" Molly said sternly. "There are ladies present!" A flick of her wand and Harry and his bed were dried off.   
  
Harry noticed that she didn't dry George off.  
  
"No fair, you didn't scold Harry!" George complained.  
  
"It's his birthday," Ginny said demurely. She perched at the foot of Harry's now dry bed.   
  
Harry gave her an ironic look and Ginny smiled merrily at him. "I see you've decided that you want to be friends, now that you're safe from sudden puzzle showers," Harry said.  
  
"Yes," Ginny said cheekily. She could hardly believe that she was being so bold around Harry. Even stranger was the fact that Harry didn't seem to mind!   
  
"By the way," Hagrid said. "Yeh can refill the fountain with any liquid you wan'. Jes' point yer wand at what you wan' ter use an' say '_refillo fountain_.' People like the use 'em at parties 'cos you can fill 'em with punch or butterbeer."  
  
"Or wine," Fred put in. "Or even," he looked from Harry to Ginny. "_Love_ potions." He poked Harry in the shoulder. "Not that _you_ need a love potion, eh, Potter?"  
  
Harry decided this was a _very_ good time to change the subject. "Time to open presents?" he asked.   
  
"Here," Mr. Parkinson said, handing Harry a squishy package. "You can probably use these, now." "These" turned out to be a new pair of pyjamas – Gryffindor scarlet with a pattern of Golden Snitches."  
  
"Cool! Thanks, Mr. Parkinson!" Harry said enthusiastically.  
  
"Try them on," Mr. Parkinson invited.  
  
Harry went into the bathroom to change. When he came out, the red pyjamas made him look paler than before, but his smile was bright enough to compensate for that.  
  
York Parkinson smirked at Cressida Opal.  
  
Ron handed him the small packages from his parents and his sister. "Here, open these next," he said.  
  
Ginny's present turned out to be some nice mittens in Gryffindor colors. "To go with your Knitten Kitten Named Mitten," she said.   
  
"Thank you," Harry smiled at her and she blushed Gryffindor scarlet. Harry thought her blushing was cute. He wondered why he kept thinking that. He decided to go on to the next present instead of pursuing that train of thought.  
  
Mrs. Weasley had made him a hat and muffler to go with the mittens. "You need to keep warm in here," she said with a slight shiver.  
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with another smile.  
  
Mr. Weasley's present was a small envelope that held a slip of paper. Harry read it and found that he now had a subscription to _Quidditch Weekly_. "You can keep up with all the teams," Arthur said happily. "There are articles on the foreign teams, even articles about American Quodpot."  
  
"Cool! Thanks, Mr. Weasley!" Harry said. He set the small slip of paper telling him that his subscription would start in August aside.  
  
"Open ours, next!" Fred said eagerly. He picked up a package from the rapidly diminishing pile. "Don't touch it, you'll get it all wet," he said to George.   
  
Fred handed the package to Harry, who opened it with a slight bit of trepidation. It didn't explode, although Harry wasn't the only one who thought the gift would have been improved by having it go up in flames.  
  
Judging by the grins on the twins' faces, they were among the people who thought the thing was hideous.  
  
"When we were buying dress robes for Ron and Ginny, we decided that we should get you something," George said. "You're almost a Weasley, even if your hair is an unfortunate shade of black."  
  
"We got these robes at a second hand shop," Fred said dramatically. "Can you _believe_ that somebody wanted to get _rid_ of them?"  
  
"I can't believe anybody would sell these to a second hand store," Harry agreed, mostly because he had a hard time believing that anybody would buy these robes in the first place. They were covered with peacocks, which wouldn't have been quite so bad if the birds had been actual peacock colors. However, these birds appeared to be (in Muggle terms) radioactive mutants with electric blue and neon green feathers. In wizarding terms…  
  
"Hagrid, when did you start raising peacocks?" Pansy demanded, shielding her eyes.  
  
Hagrid laughed. "Don' blame me!" he said. "Them birds is enough to scare a Mantichore!"  
  
"Pity you didn't have these robes a few years ago, mate," laughed Ron. "The basilisk wouldn't have stood a chance against them!"  
  
"I have something here, too," Dr. Opal said. She handed Harry a bulky package and made a face at Mr. Parkinson.  
  
"You don't have to be so _blamed _competitive, Cressida," Mr. Parkinson commented.  
  
"Says the loser," Dr. Opal said gleefully.  
  
Mr. Parkinson muttered something under his breath.  
  
"You didn't need to get me anything," Harry said as he unwrapped the box. "Wow, a chess set! Thanks!" He picked up one of the glass pieces and admired the way the light sparkled on it.  
  
"You already have a chess set," Ron said.  
  
"But this is a complete set," Harry said. "Red versus green. I can play while I'm here."  
  
"It was especially enchanted for hospital use," Dr. Opal said. "The chess pieces are charmed to be still and quiet. They can't shout at you, give you advice or go stomping around the board. You'll have to move them by hand."  
  
"In other words," Harry said dryly. "These are _Muggle_ chess pieces."  
  
Dr. Opal had laughed at him. "I bought them from a wizard vendor," she said. "I assure you, they do _something _interesting! I'll explain when you're ready to leave." She gave Mr. Parkinson a sly look. "We don't want to continue certain rivalries in the hospital now, do we?"  
  
Harry, assuming she meant the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, agreed.  
  
Hermione picked one of the rooks and frowned. She didn't like the looks of the pieces, they reminded her of the ugly Golems that Madame Handwerker used as guards. However, she didn't want to criticize Harry's birthday present.  
  
"Here," Ron handed Harry the big package. "I made this for you myself, with Dad's help."  
  
"This" turned out to be a deluxe owl cage, made from brass.  
  
"Look, there's a low level charm on the water dish to make sure the water is always fresh and clean," Ron said, pointing out the features. "And," he turned the cage around. "There's a secret door on the back, so those Muggle relatives of yours can't lock Hedwig in again."  
  
"Excellent!" Harry exclaimed. "I thank you, and Hedwig thanks you!" He looked around. "Where is Hedwig, anyway?"  
  
"She's staying at the Burrow," Ron said. "She and Hermes have been getting along… very well."  
  
Harry held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it," he said. "Just tell Percy that I expect his owl to behave like a gentleman!"  
  
Everybody laughed and Ron challenged all present to a chess match.  
  
He handily defeated both Mr. Parkinson and Dr. Opal. The Grangers and his own parents turned down the invitation to be publicly humiliated.  
  
Pansy took up the challenge. This was the longest game and actually wound up in a stalemate.  
  
"You're just lucky it's been a long time since my last real game, Weasley," Pansy said good-humouredly. She looked at her father. "My mother doesn't have time to play anymore, and you saw how well my father played."  
  
"Well, maybe I'll give you an opportunity to lose graciously tomorrow," Ron said.  
  
"In your dreams," snorted Pansy. "You had better be prepared for humiliation tomorrow." Then she made a face. "Better make it the day after tomorrow."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Backing out already?" he teased.  
  
"No, Millie and I have to be in early tomorrow," Pansy said. "I won't have time to play tomorrow."  
  
"Chicken!"  
  
Pansy glared at him.  
  
"Maybe you could have the grudge match out at the nurse's station," Dr. Opal suggested. "You could play during your breaks."  
  
"I'm not on duty tomorrow," Ron said.   
  
"But you'll be here early to get started on those practice O.W.L.s," Hermione said severely.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes but didn't object verbally.  
  
"Then it would probably be a good idea to take the chess set out to the nurse's station," Pansy said. "Wouldn't want you and Potter to get distracted, would we, Weasley?"  
  
Hermione grinned.  
  
"Sure, you can borrow the set," Harry said.  
  
"Speaking of getting up early tomorrow," Mr. Parkinson said. "It's time we were getting home. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."  
  
"I've got to get going, too," Neville said. "I have the early shift tomorrow, too. Besides, my gran is expecting me home soon."  
  
"We've got to get going," George said. "We're going to stay at Lee Jordan's house for a few days." He grinned. "We have to study for our N.E.W.T.s, you know."  
  
Neither Arthur nor Molly looked like they believed that the twins would be studying.  
  
"I have a late shift tonight," Dr. Opal said. "Could I be so bold as to borrow one of your birthday presents, Mr. Potter? I think that puzzle is _just_ what I need to keep me awake while I'm sitting around waiting for the next patient to apparate into my lap."  
  
"Sure, Dr. Opal," Harry said amiably. "Thanks for the chess set!"  
  
Dr. Opal waved his thanks away. "Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter."  
  
"And I won't forget that puzzle any time soon, Hermione," Harry added with a sly look. "If memory serves, _your_ birthday is coming up." He looked over at the twins, who grinned evilly.  
  
Hermione looked worried.  
  
The party broke up then, and the last thing Harry heard from his guests that night was Hermione protesting about the purity of her intentions.  
  
"She really _does_ sound like a Weasley," Harry confided to Mitten, the Knitten Kitten.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
Here is the penultimate chapter, next up is the thrilling finale: "Out With a Bang". Same wizarding time! Same English channel!  
  
For the record, July 31, 1995 _was_ a Monday.  
  
Hermione's Animagus form is not a basilisk, nor does she turn into something that you wouldn't want in your house.  
  
The 'Plum to Seed to Bud to Plum' reference is a line in the song "Steady As A Beating Drum" in the Disney animated movie, Pocahontas.  
  
**Review Responses**:  
Hello, Gini! Thanks for reviewing here as well as at Gryffindor Tower! ** Thanks for the compliments on my Knitten Kitten. ** Poor Viktor, he needs a girlfriend. Somebody who doesn't have Weasleys around her. ;-)   
  
Hi, Jake! Thanks for coming by. Hope FF.net let you see chapter 18 before I got 19 up!  
  
DaBear: Thanks for the compliments! ** Yes, it's very convenient that both Harry and Hermione's coloring goes well with red! :-)  
  
Blueberry: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry I didn't make myself clear. Harry did have Kirttimukha. That's why his hair started going white. Kirttimukha is caused by stess and guilt and other unpleasant emotions. The ESA amplified those and turned a mild, nasty case of Kirttimukha into a life threatening case.  
  
Jake: Thank you! You're sweet, too!  
  
Andrea13: Thanks for reviewing! ** I knew *somebody* would figure out that the baby broom was there. ** I expect the ring can be resized. ** Thanks for telling me what you found funny! (Wouldn't having a werewolf and a grim sitting in the room make you long for the dull old meetings where all you had to worry about was snoring too loudly?) ** I was that obvious, was I?  
  
X13: Thanks for reviewing! Glad you're feeling better! ** Your mother is not crazy, she's just concerned about you. ** Telling Ginny off wasn't an option, besides she had a point…   
  
Bob: Thanks for reviewing! ** Re: Ginny being turned into a Parselmouth rather than a Parseltongue… umm, she misspoke in her excitement. Yeah, that's the ticket! ** I guess I was pretty obvious, wasn't I? ;-) ** Thanks for saying what lines you liked! ** I figure that the father of seven ought to be able to figure out how a boy thinks. Arthur is no dummy. ** No, Ron's the owl, so his Animagus training will be the hoot! ** Yeah, there are more girls than boys in that group (even if you count Crookshanks). However, Nicely is more likely to side with the boys. ** Hedwig is at The Burrow, which is why Ginny offered to send her to Ollivander's. ** Yeah, Hermione has heard about the Dursleys, but she forgets that not all people are as willing to answer questions as her parents. ** Hang on, we're almost at the checkered flag!  
  
The Breeze: What a cool screen name! ** Thanks for reviewing! ** "A Sirius Situation" will start as soon as this story is finished! ** They'll tell Ginny about Sirius soon. ** No, this isn't a duplicate.   
  
Taself: Thanks for reviewing! ** No, I getting into a staredown with Hermione might not be a good idea. ** More is coming up!  
  
Lan: Thanks for revieiwing! ** Glad you're getting used to the cliffhangers. It just feels so unnatural to not have them. ("God, I miss the screaming.") ** "A Sirius Situation" will start as soon as this story is finished. Stay tuned!  
  
Bucky: Thanks for the compliments! ** I have ideas for Cat!Harry and Owl!Ron, so I'll probably keep with this AU.   
  
AerinBrown: Thanks for the review, and for telling me what your favorite parts are! ** You'll find out what Hermione did in "A Sirius Situation."   
  
Amulder: You… didn't… like… *snf* Oh, because it was too short! You scared me! :-) ** Yep, the relation between Harry and Ginny is going forward. He sees that she's very good and she sees that he's not perfect. Both are very helpful in a relationship. ** OOps, sorry that the wand explanation confused you. Simplified: Lily wanted to hide James Christmas present, so she left it at Petunia's (with some other Christmas stuff.) ** She had a low level Distraction charm on it so Petunia wouldn't steal the tablecloth or the sheets. The Distraction charm was powered by the broken wand. The more the wand leaked, the more powerful the Distraction charm got. The ring was affected, too. Does that clear things up any?  
  
Female Fred: Thanks for the review! Glad Ginny's reaction seemed right to you.  
  
Deirdre: Thanks for the review! Glad you got a giggle out of the names I gave Hermione's parents.  
  
Von: Thanks for reviewing! ** Sorry the story has seemed bland to you for the past couple of chapters. The next chapter will be NOT bland, promise. ** "WHY didn't Harry just say 'My Dad helped make it, and I've seen it's brain, it's a pensive, calm down.'" Ummm… because he didn't think of it? (Neither did I). Harry did get around to telling her that his father had a hand in making it. ** I solemnly swear, Hermione's form (while unexpected) will not be a basilisk (you spelled that correctly). It will not be scaley or disgusting, it will be very impressive. Hermione will hate it.  
  
Angel of the North: Thanks for reviewing! ** How could you tell I was a fan of "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." ** Thanks for telling me what you liked. ** No, the ring is just a ring.  
  
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" ?": Nope, Hermione isn't a basilisk.  
  
Ozma: You should know how much I love to hang cliffs! ;) ** Thanks for the review and thanks for posting another chapter! I've missed your Argus Filch! ** Thanks for telling me what parts you liked. ** " Warrior!Ginny and her Sleepy Spindle Spike of Doom" *grin* sounds like a good title for something. ** " [Ginny] not only faces her worst fear, she goes for the THROAT." (Great line!) I figure anybody who can survive a year of being possessed by Riddle is a fighter through and through.   
  
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Roman: Thanks for the review! ** Nicely is an Aid to Magical Mischief Makers, she can't be 100% "nice."   
  
Galadriel7: Thanks for all the compliments! It's nice to hear that people are enjoying my story! ** This is the last calm chapter evil grin ** You are welcome for the story!  
  



	20. Out With a Bang

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Bad news/ Good news. 

"A Sirius Situation" is NOT working out. I just have too many things I want to happen and not enough time. So "A Harry Situation" shall be extended. "A Sirius Situation" will be start during the summer between fifth and sixth years. I should have enough time between Book Five and Book Six to do all the stuff that I want to do.

Dedicated to all you wonderful people who reviewed and/or put me on your favorites list! Thank you!

My apologies to ManW0lf83 for doubting him. You're right, it is VITAmeataVEGamin. My source was wrong! (And thanks to eedoe for spotting the error, too!)

Sorry for the long delay, there was a problem uploading to ff.net. Reviews weren't being posted, either, although I did get them forwarded to me. Thanks!

****

Chapter 20: Out With a Bang

The Burrow:

Ron was technically the first to notice something was wrong. He woke up in the wee hours of the morning bathed in cold sweat and convinced, though he couldn't say why, that Harry was in terrible danger. He heard somebody in the kitchen and padded downstairs to see who it was.

His father was getting ready to leave.

"So early?" Ron asked in dismay. "But I…"

"Sorry, Ron," Arthur said. "But this is the best time to catch people unawares." He gave Molly a kiss and was gone before Ron could say anything further.

"Mum, Harry is in danger," Ron blurted.

One look at Ron's face convinced Molly not to argue. "Get Ginny and get dressed," she said. "I don't want to leave you two here alone."

Ron was up the stairs before he remembered that the twins had gone to Lee Jordan's for a few days. He roused Ginny and they were dressed and downstairs in record time.

Their mother was frowning. "I couldn't reach Dumbledore," she said. "I sent Hedwig with a note, though. Come along then." She held out the pot of Floo powder and they were off.

War Games and Slytherins:

Pansy and Millicent were the ones who ran into the actual danger first. They had arrived early for their shift, mainly to get a start on their chess game. However, the chess pieces had gone missing.

"If this was a regular set, I'd say the pieces had probably wandered off on their own," Pansy said with a frown.

"Dr. Opal did say that the pieces did something interesting, didn't she?" Millicent said.

Pansy's eyebrow went up. "So she did," she said. "Maybe they're going to play a prank on Potter. Let's go see." 

They headed off to the Haunted Wing. It wasn't hard to find the chessmen, since they were now six feet tall and very nasty looking. Millicent and Pansy arrived for the last of the battle. The remains of several chess pieces and one red knight's horse were scattered on the ground, and there were only a few Green pieces in the corridor. However, the Golems who had been guarding the entrance to the Haunted wing were destroyed and there were far too many Red pieces left.

The girls stopped, aghast, at the devastation. The Red Queen turned her empty eyes to them and ordered, "Destroy them!"

The Green Queen narrowed her eyes. "My men do not take orders from Red," she hissed.

The Red Queen snorted impatiently. "This is no time for colour rivalries!" she exclaimed. "We must work together!"

Pansy and Millicent, not being idiots, turned and fled. They did not scream because that would have drawn attention back to themselves.

"Really? Then you won't mind taking orders from me!" snarled the Green Queen.

The Red Queen growled. "I don't take orders from fools!" she bellowed. "You, Rooks! Go after those girls!"

The Red Rooks took off in pursuit and the Green Rooks followed. The Red Queen smirked at the Green Queen.

"We'll settle this later," the Green Queen snarled. "After we get Potter." 

Hermione and the Knight's Mare:

Hermione woke up at three o'clock. She'd been having nightmares about failing her O.W.L.s and being turned into a house elf. She sighed and tried to go back to sleep, but the strange surroundings made that hard. The hostel behind St. Mungo's catered to the wizarding families of patients and some of the amenities were supposed to be activated by wand. Which meant that the Grangers couldn't change the thermostat setting. The air conditioning was on high and it felt like Hermione was camping on the arctic tundra. She sighed. Her temporary wand license was for emergencies and turning off the air conditioning just didn't qualify. 

She tried to take her mind off her discomfort by trying to remember if she ever read anything about wizarding climate controls. She knew they didn't really call it 'air conditioning,' but she couldn't recall what they did call it. She wondered if wizards had central heating. Neither Hogwarts nor The Burrow had it, but they weren't exactly typical wizarding homes, either.

After about an hour of shivering and trying to get back to sleep, Hermione began to wish that she'd borrowed some of Harry's books. Then she remembered that the book cart had been pushed into the corridor to make room for the party-goers. She could easily get to them without disturbing Harry. If she was going to be awake, then she was going to get some work done! 

She made her way in the back door of the hospital without meeting anybody. That seemed rather strange to her, she expected the hospital to have some activity, even at this time of night. The nurse station was deserted. There was nothing in sight but Harry's new chess board and the fountain puzzle. The puzzle had been put together. It wasn't spouting anymore, but there was no water anywhere. Whatever it had been spraying had vanished without a trace.

Hermione looked around and frowned. She went behind the nurses station and found both nurses on the floor. "Are you all right?" she asked, even though she knew it was a stupid question. The nurses didn't wake. Hermione, deciding this fell within the definition of 'emergency,' tried _ennervate_, to no avail.

"I think this is very bad," she said. She left the nurses' station and looked around at the sound of footsteps. It sounded like somebody leading a horse.

It was a giant, green glass knight, and he was, indeed, leading a horse.

Hermione said what was probably the biggest understatement of her life. "Oh, dear."

"Female, you will come with me."

"No."

"Then I will take you."

"I don't think so._ Petrificus Totalus_."

It didn't work. Neither did _Stupefy_, _Impedimenta_ or _Locomotor Mortis_. Hermione found herself backed into a corner.

"Our creator was prepared for such puny defenses," the Green Knight intoned. It reached out and yanked Hermione's wand from her hand and threw it away. "Come, now!" He reached to grab her arm.

Hermione yanked her Sleepy Spike from her pocket and slashed at his hand. She didn't expect much. The was a slight screech when the sharp point raked across the palm of the Knight's hand. The Knight looked at the scratch in bewilderment. Then he keeled over and hit the floor with a crash.

Only then did Hermione remember that the Sleepy Spindle had worked on the Hunting Cloak. "I knew that," she said. 

The knight's horse snorted and came forward. Somehow Hermione doubted it would let her close enough to scratch it. The long ago dueling club came to mind, and with it a possibly useful hex.

Now all she had to do was get to her wand. She grabbed up the jigsaw puzzle and hurled it at the horse. While it was distracted, Hermione made a frantic dash and came up with her wand.

"_Tarantallegra_!" 

Suddenly the horse found itself unable to do anything but caper around the room. It managed to let out a neigh, almost a scream, of pure frustration as Hermione made good her escape. 

The nurses were safe enough behind the counter, she thought. The horse couldn't accidentally trample them and if the attacker hadn't killed them before, there seemed no point in killing them now. But what about her parents? What about Harry? This attack _had_ to be focused on him. Panic clawed its way up her stomach as she couldn't decide to go back to get her parents out of danger or go forward to help Harry.

The decision was taken out of her hands when Pansy and Millicent appeared.

"Giant chessmen, after Potter!" gasped Millicent.

"They're after us!" shrieked Pansy.

"I rather thought that might be the case," Hermione said, surprised at how cool her voice sounded. She looked down the way the Slytherin girls had come. "You might want to get some help," she said. "Everybody on this floor seems to be asleep."

Pansy stared. Granger was taking up a position as calmly as if she were giving a demonstration for a class. This, then, must be Gryffindor.

It wasn't Slytherin though.

"Come on," she said to Millicent. To her horror, she saw that Millicent was emulating Granger's stance. "Are you crazy?"

"No, just Slytherin," Millicent said. The tall, square-jawed girl glared down the corridor at the approaching chessmen.

"Slytherins aren't into fights!" Pansy hissed.

"No, but I think four to two odds are rather _ambitious_, don't you?" Millicent said. She jerked her head. "You'd better get going."

Pansy didn't need a third invitation. She couldn't believe she'd hesitated that much. Getting help was the thing to do, so she headed for the front. The main reception room had a fire that was always burning. She could Floo to safety and get help at the same time. 

Unfortunately, two Green Pawns had anticipated that somebody would try that. One was stationed in the corridor next to the door that lead to the reception room. The other moved into the corridor behind her, cutting off her escape route. "Oh, help!" Pansy cried.

The door to the reception room burst open. Pansy never expected to be glad to see a Gryffindor. Much less those particular red-headed Gryffindors.

"_Stupefy!_" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" yelled Ron.

"_Locomotor Mortis!_" shouted Ginny.

None of the Weasleys' spells affected the Pawns.

Ron recovered first. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" He floated one Pawn over to its flabbergasted partner and dropped it before either could react. The two Pawns smashed together as Ginny called "_Expelliarmus_!" and Mrs. Weasley called "_Reducto_!"

The combined force of the two spells plus gravity reduced the Pawns to fragments.

"Good work, Ron, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Thanks," Ron looked down at the mess and shook his head. "Why glass?" he said. "Wouldn't stone or metal have been sturdier?"

"They must be made of QuickGlass," Pansy said, surprised at how clinical she sounded. "Easy to work with and it already has animation spells built in."

"Oh," Ron said. "Never heard of it."

"Must be why you failed your Potions PROWL," Pansy said.

"We've got to get to Harry," Ginny said.

"You mean, go _back_?" Pansy asked in dismay, just before she fainted.

"Ginny, you take care of her, and call your brother!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Ron, come with me."

Ginny sighed, but floated Pansy back into the reception room. Pity this probably counted as an emergency. It would have been nice if Mafalda would notice that something was going on. She wondered which brother her mum had meant, then decided it really didn't matter.

Watch Out!:

There were strange noises in this wizarding hospice. Rupert woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.

"Are you awake?" Emma asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Rupert replied. "What is that noise? It sounds like somebody is riding a horse in here."

"Maybe it's a centaur?" speculated Emma.

That got them out of bed and dressed in minutes. They both dearly wanted to see a centaur! When they left the bedroom, they noticed that Hermione's sofa was empty.

"Gone off to study so soon?" Rupert sighed. "Really, my dear, couldn't you have kept back a _few_ of those workaholic genes?"

Emma shook her head. "Honestly, Rupert!" she went to open the door, but Rupert forestalled her.

"Emma, you need to watch more horror movies," Rupert said. "Don't you know that when you hear strange noises, the first person out the door is going to be grabbed by a monster?"

He opened the door and was grabbed by the other Green Knight.

"Damn!" Rupert said, squirming helplessly.

Emma didn't bother swearing. She pulled the Sleepy Spike that those nice Weasley twins had given her and lunged. The spike scraped along the knights exposed hands and Emma had to jump back to avoid spearing her husband.

The knight dropped Rupert before it fell, which gave the dentist enough time to get out of the way.

"I'm surprised that worked," Rupert confessed. "I didn't think you could stab glass!"

"You can't," Emma said. "But you can scratch it!" 

"So, why would a glass knight fall asleep?" Rupert wanted to know.

Emma gaped at him.

"You mean, you didn't read that somewhere?" Rupert asked.

Emma didn't answer his question. Instead, she let out a strangled shriek and pointed.

Rupert spun around and his eyes went wide. There was a green glass horse and two giant green Pawns were just outside the door. "They look rather annoyed," he said.

The horse moved forward, snorting. 

Emma tightened her grip on her spike.

Hagrid appeared behind the Pawns. He grabbed them and smashed them together a few times. "Nex' time, pick on someone yer own size," he growled. The second blow cracked the pawns and the fourth collision caused them to shatter.

The glass horse wheeled around and charged. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it under his arm absently-mindedly. "We need ter get Madame Handwerker," he said. "She c'n handle this."

"Are there more?" Rupert cried. "What about Hermione?"

"In't she here?" Hagrid asked worried.

"No, we think she must have gone into the hospital," Rupert said. "Do you think there are more of them?"

"I expect the whole chess set's in on this," Hagrid said. "We c'n help Hermione an' Harry the fastes' by gettin' Madame Handwerker involved. She controls the hospital's defenses an' stuff." He strode off, ignoring the kicking, shrilling horse under his arm. 

It turned out that Madame Handwerker had living quarters in the hospice. However, when they got there, all they found were the remains of two Green Bishops, an unconscious Helga Handwerker and a hysterical Olivia Guppy.

"Emma, this is the time to use your Watch Out," Rupert said firmly. "Get these two to Dumbledore, quickly. I'll look after Hermione."

Emma fumed, but didn't argue. "Don't you _dare_ get yourself killed, Rupert!" she said. She gathered the two witches in her embrace, making sure that both of them were touching the Watch Out before she activated it. As she had surmised, there was enough magic flying around to set it off.

She landed with a thump and hoped to god she hadn't just killed Madam Handwerker. She looked around. The office was dark, lit only by some low flames in a fireplace. The light reflected from a multitude of moving gadgets, some of which looked vaguely familiar.

"Hello? Help! Professor Dumbledore? Are you here?" she cried.

There was a burst of flame behind her and she whirled around to see what had to be Headmaster Dumbledore's phoenix. The bird trilled out a note.

"Fawkes! I need help!" Emma said, trying to remain calm.

Fawkes flew over to the women and landed near Helga Handwerker. Fawkes cried quietly on Helga's head and Olivia's hysterics faded as she looked at the marvelous bird.

After several minutes, Helga stirred and moaned. Emma got up, leaving Olivia to take care of Helga. There were some stairs leading upwards. Emma hurried up them to the door at the top. Knocking produced no results and she could not open it. She came downstairs and hunted around. There were a few doors, but nothing that would open to her touch.

"Fawkes, can you get some help?"

The phoenix looked at her sadly. 

"My husband and daughter are in danger!" Emma cried.

Fawkes bowed his head and wept even harder. Emma was struck with fear. Helga was probably seriously injured. It might have been best to have left her where she was.

Olivia must have come to the same conclusion, because she began to cry again. "Oh, don't die, please don't die! Don't leave me! Madam Helga, I'm scared!"

Emma put her arm around her and murmured soothing words. She tried to rein in her own fears for her husband and daughter. She thought about how big and strong Hagrid was. Surely he wouldn't let anything happen to his friends! She had to keep pushing away the thought that Hagrid hadn't been able to help his friends, the Potters. She didn't know how long she sat there, holding Olivia and watching Fawkes heal Helga when light spilled into the room as a door opened.

"Hello? Headmaster?" Emma called.

"Yes, Emma, I am right here," Dumbledore said. "Lumos."

The lights came on to show Dumbledore and a dark-haired, stern-faced woman.

"Helga!" Dumbledore was at his daughter's side in a heartbeat. He laid a trembling hand on his daughter's sternum. "Helga?"

"Ow," moaned Helga. "Stop them!"

"Trouble in St. Mungo's?" the woman asked.

"There's a giant chess set on the loose," Emma reported.

"They tried… they tried to kill…" Olivia burst into tears again.

"Sounds like somebody's stealing my ideas," the woman said. Her eyes narrowed.

"Go! Go!" Helga managed.

Dumbledore stepped over to the fireplace. He took a pinch of dust and tossed it into the fireplace. "Poppy? You have some patients in my office. We are needed at St. Mungo's." He turned to the woman. "Minerva, call the Aurors, I'll meet them outside the hospital."

He tossed a handful of dust into the fireplace, shouted his destination and was gone. A minute later, Minerva had also vanished into the fireplace.

Meanwhile, Back in the Hospice:

"I have to get to Hermione!" Rupert insisted.

"This is the fastes' way," Hagrid said, indicating the horse under his arm. "C'n you ride?"

"Did Marie Antoinette have great legs?" Rupert replied.

Hagrid put the horse down and plopped Rupert on top of it. "Gee-up!" Hagrid cried, giving the horse a healthy swat on its posterior. 

The swat probably saved Rupert's life, because the Glass Horse was severely hampered by having its haunches cracked.

Hermione and Millicent Take a Stand:

Hermione had a few minutes to explain what didn't work to Millicent before the Rooks arrived. "The _Tarantallegra _spell worked on the horse, but I don't think that's going to help us against four of them," she added.

The four Rooks were almost on them, when Millicent raised her wand and spoke. "_Ferula!_" A stream of bandages flew out from her wand and soon one of the Green Rooks fell to the ground, looking like a displaced Egyptian mummy.

"Full marks," Hermione murmured. "_Flipendo!_" One of the Red Rooks was knocked backwards. A sudden thought struck Hermione and she pointed her wand at the other Red Rook. "_Reducio!_" The Rook shrank to its original size, but it still came at them.

Just then, the dancing Green Horse came in, clearly still after Hermione. It blundered into Red Rook that Hermione had knocked down and threw it against the wall. 

"_Expelliarmus_!" Hermione cried when the chess pieces collided. The combined impact of the collision and the spell splintered the Rook.

The shrunken Rook reached Hermione's foot and she kicked it into the Green Horse's path, where it was trampled. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a white-robed figure slip past the fight and head for the Haunted Wing. Encouraged that _somebody_ was going to help Harry, Hermione turned her attention to the last Rook.

"_Sonorus_." 

Hermione and Millicent turned at the unexpected voice. 

"Cover your ears," Ron said.

They had just enough time to obey when Molly let out a screech worthy of an alley full of angry cats. The sound shattered the remaining Rook. 

"_Quietus_," Molly gasped, rubbing her throat.

"Good one, Mum," Ron said with admiration. "I would have never thought of that!"

"If you had twins like…" Molly coughed and couldn't finish.

Meanwhile, the spell on the Green Horse had worn off. It directed an outraged glare at Hermione.

"Oh, dear," Hermione said.

Just then, Rupert barreled in on the other Green horse. There was a massive collision and when the dust cleared, Rupert Granger was the only one of the three still intact… more or less.

"Ow, that hurt!" Rupert groaned, trying to clutch several places at the same time.

"Dad! Are you all right? Where's Mum?" Hermione rushed to her father's side.

Hagrid came rushing in. "Are yeh all righ'," he called anxiously. "Yeh said yeh could ride! Why'd yeh lie?"

"I didn't lie, I _never_ lie," Rupert said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Marie Antoinette had _terrible_ legs!"

"There's no time for kidding around!" Millicent reminded them. "There's half a chess set after Potter!"

Besieged:

The Green Queen headed towards the door to their target's room. She could see it was open. Potter had obviously been awakened by the battle.

"Surrender, boy," the Green Queen said grandly.

Harry soon found out which spells didn't work against the chess pieces. 

"You haven't got a prayer," The Green Queen said, marching forward.

Potter responded with a wave of his wand. "_Flipendo_!" he cried.

The Green Queen was unaffected. "Fool! A little spell like that can't hurt me!" she boasted, just before the Tower of Textbooks fell on top of her and broke her in half.

"Help me!" the Green Queen demanded.

The Red Queen looked down at her and laughed. "I said you were a fool!" she said, kicking the Green Queen in the face until her head came off. "You won't defeat _me_ that easily, Potter!" 

A few seconds later the corridor was filled with flying boxes. The Red Queen ducked and brushed them aside. 

"_Diffindo_!" Harry cried.

The boxes burst open and army of chocolate frogs went bouncing in the corridor.

"_Engorgio_!" Harry bellowed several times.

Then there was an army of _giant_ chocolate frogs bouncing in the corridor. The Red Queen managed to avoid them, but some of her followers were not so lucky. When the chocolate frogs stopped leaping, both of the remaining Green Pawns had been flattened. One of the Red Bishops was too badly damaged to move under its own steam.

"Forgive me, my lady," the Red Queen's Bishop cried.

"Oh, shut up," the Red Queen said. She tried to push the door to Harry's room open, but Harry had sealed it. "We'll need a battering ram," she said. She looked at the damaged Bishop speculatively.

"Oh, bugger," the Bishop said.

Inside Harry's room, Harry was looking for anything else he could use as a weapon. He looked out at the corridor using his mother's spyglass. Seven to one were very ugly odds. 

The door shivered under their first assault.

Harry dug into his chest and pulled out the laid out the snake rope that Hagrid had given him. He laid the rope near the door. Then he walked back to the bed and looked up the proper whistle to make it attack. 

He shivered. In spite of the cold, it felt like his muscles were on fire. The failed curses had used up energy that he couldn't spare. He picked up Nicely. "If you have ANYWAY to contact ANYBODY, now would be a very good time to SCREAM FOR HELP!" he said. He put the guide down and shifted the bed so he would have a second barricade when the chess pieces got through the door.

The next blow shattered the Bishop, but cracked the door. The Red Queen sent the remaining horse to kick the door down.

Harry hoped that he could hold out long enough for help to arrive. If help _could_ arrive. He had a sick feeling that the rest of the hospital was under attack as well. He wished he could help them, but he was going to have his hands full helping himself.

He went through the list of hexes and spells that he'd learned before the Third Task, none of the battle spells had worked. It was time to try something unexpected.

The door shattered.

Two Red Pawns burst in, followed by two Red Knights.

__

"Rictusempra!" Harry cried.

The four chessmen doubled over, laughing.

"Idiots," the remaining Red Bishop snarled. He managed to push past them. He grinned at Harry. "I assure you, I have no sense of humor."

"_Serpensortia_!" A large snake sprang out of Harry's wand and wriggled toward the chessmen. "Get the Bishop!" Harry hissed.

The Bishop laughed and smashed the faux-snake with his miter. The snake rope, however, slithered up from behind and bound the Bishop tightly before the chess piece had a chance to react. Harry blinked. The snake rope understood Parseltongue! The discovery couldn't have come at a better time.

The Knights and the Pawns were shaking off the _Rictusempra _spell. None of the remaining hexes in his repertoire seemed strong enough, especially not with the smirking Red Queen coming in. That left him with one choice. He closed his eyes, thought about how wonderful yesterday's party had been, and roared, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

The silvery stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand with a vengeance. The first knight shattered as Prongs rammed him head on. The second knight tried to stab Prongs from behind, only to encounter the stag's rear hooves as it lashed out. The second knight sailed across the room to shatter, and be shattered by, one of the Pawns.

The last Pawn charged Harry's Patronus. Just then, Harry ran out of strength. Prongs faded and the Pawn smashed itself against the wall.

The Red Queen laughed. "Well _done_, boy," she said. "Too bad this is checkmate for you."

"_Accio_ broom!" Harry cried.

The Red Queen laughed and easily intercepted the still wrapped broomstick. "You think you can escape me with this toy?" she cried. She squeezed; the broom snapped and the wrapping paper ripped.

Lily had promised that whoever opened the package without her permission would be sorry. There was a huge explosion that staggered the Queen, then a multicolored bubble shimmered burst over the Queen's head and solidified, trapping her like a fly in amber.

Harry slumped to the floor, back against his bed. "Thanks, Mum," he wheezed. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath when he heard slow, grinding steps that were obviously not made by a human. Harry opened his eyes and saw the Red King enter.

"Oh, bugger," Harry sighed. He tried to get to his feet, but his muscles refused to cooperate.

"Your time is up, Harry Potter," the King intoned.

"NO!" Tiberius Potter appeared between his grandson and the Red King. "You can't have him!"

The Red King paused. "You have no substance," it said. "You cannot stop me." It walked forward, ignoring Tiberius and focusing its attention on Harry.

Being an ephemeral, the chess piece did not know about ghosts. Nor did it know that extreme cold and glass are not a good combination. When it stepped through the murdered man's ghost, the rapid temperature change shattered the glass chess piece before it realized it had made a mistake.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Grandfather," he said.

"It was the least…" Tiberius didn't get a chance to finish.

Dr. Opal ran into the room. "Potter! What are you doing here? _Expulso_!" she cried, waving her wand at Tiberius.

The ghost of Harry's grandfather disappeared abruptly.

"Hey! He just saved my life!" Harry protested. He struggled to push himself to his feet.

"How very unfortunate," Dr. Opal said, surveying the room. "This reminds me of something… oh, yes, it reminds me of the day your idiot grandfather died. However, you aren't going to die today. There's somebody waiting to see you."

She pointed her wand at Harry. "_Stupefy_."

Opal conjured a stretcher and magicked Harry onto it. She headed for the main reception room. It would be less suspicious if she used the regular fireplace. They'd be after her soon enough, once it became clear that she had not only bought the chess set, but had made sure that it would be in a central location. 

She also didn't think it would take Dumbledore and his pet Aurors very long to realize that she had filled the puzzle fountain with Poppy Perfume. However, it would take them just long enough.

She didn't notice the denim bound Survivor's Guide lying on the table next to Potter's bed.

Dr. Opal and her captive arrived at the reception room just as Bulstrode said, "There's no time for kidding around! There's half a chess set after Potter!"

"I've got him," Dr. Opal said.

"Thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Is he all right?" Ron blurted, moving closer. He actually had good Mediwizard instincts, Dr. Opal thought. Pity she wasn't going to be around to see him develop them.

"He just took out half a giant chess set," Dr. Opal said. "Somebody enchanted the set I gave him. I shouldn't have left it out, but I never thought…" She looked at Potter. "I need to get him out of here. Can you handle waking up those Aurors? And somebody needs to inform Madame Handwerker about the attack."

"Where are you taking him?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Hogwarts," Dr. Opal said. "It's the only place safe enough for him now." With that she flicked her wand and continued kidnapping The-Boy-Who-Lived out from under the noses of his devoted fans.

It's Always Darkest Before…

Pansy woke up panicky and disoriented. Ginny couldn't blame her. "We've got to get help!" Pansy insisted.

"I've called my brother Percy," Ginny said. "He works at the Ministry. There are Aurors on the way."

"Fine, now let's get out of here!" Pansy got off the couch where she'd been lying and staggered.

"You need to lie down," Ginny said.

"Not in a combat zone!" Pansy looked around wild-eyed. "Are _all _Gryffindors too stupid to know when to run?"

Just then, a swoosh and cloud of ash announced somebody's arrival.

Pansy dragged Ginny behind the couch.

Ginny broke free when she saw who was there. "Neville!" Ginny said. "You'd better move aside, Aurors will be here any minute!"

"What's going on?"

"Giant chessmen are attacking people!" Pansy wailed.

"Harry!" Neville cried. "We've got to go help him!" He headed for the door, wand in hand.

Pansy grabbed him by the arm. "We need to get _out _of here," Pansy argued. "Get somebody who knows how to handle the situation."

"I've already called for help," Ginny said.

"Good," Neville said calmly. "Let's see what's going on."

Pansy let go of his arm with a huff. "_You _go be good little heroes if you want, but _I'm _not in Gryffindor!" She headed for the fireplace again, when there was another whoosh and cloud of ash.

All three teens dived for cover. When the dust cleared, Pansy stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming, Ginny felt her blood run cold and Neville thought his pounding heart would give away their location. They knew that silence was their only hope, now that Sirius Black had come to St. Mungo's.

"So, you're the courier," a familiar voice said. Dr. Opal walked into view, floating a limp and unmoving Harry Potter on a stretcher.

"Doctor Cressida Opal, what a surprise," Black said gruffly. "I actually thought that you were on Dumbledore's side. I remember how you fussed over Lily when Harry was born. Had you planned to kill the Potters even back then? Or is this a recent development?"

Dr. Opal snorted. "Recent? I was planning to finish off Tiberius' line since the cad threw me over! Me, the one who helped him win his coveted Head Boy badge! I had so many academic honors when I graduated that the Ministry _begged _me to take a position with them! And yet he threw me over for a _Hufflepuff_ who only managed to get one O.W.L. and one N.E.W.T.!"

"How shocking," murmured Black, with a strange gleam in his eye.

Opal snorted at his tone of voice. "Like you didn't betray Potter over his wife." She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Here, you'll need to have him traveled-sized, I expect," Opal said. She flicked her wand at Harry and he shrank. Soon there was nothing on the stretcher but a black pawn.

"So, being denied the chance to murder Tiberius and James, you decided to go after Harry?" Black asked. He strolled over to the stretcher, but Opal kept it out of reach. 

"Not until I get my payment, Black," she said. "What makes you think I was robbed of my chance to murder Tiberius?"

Black's eyebrows rose. "_You _killed him?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, it was easy in all the chaos following the attack. Tiberius _still _doesn't know what hit him. The brilliant part is, I wound up treating his little Hufflepuff for _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhaging." She chortled to herself and she picked the Black Pawn off the stretcher.

"Poisoned her, did you?" Black said softly. He walked up to the stretcher and rested his hand on it.

"Oh, no, nothing that obvious. The potions that I gave her would have cured her, if she hadn't been so depressed over the constant reminders of how poor, _poor _Tiberius died." Opal flicked a crocodile tear from her eye. "I'm afraid that every time I saw her, I was overcome with emotion. I had her in tears after every session." Opal laughed again. "Nobody was surprised when she died. She shouldn't have overstrained herself for James' wedding… or did I forget to tell her that?"

Her eyes hardened. "Where is my payment? You don't want to be here when the Aurors arrive."

"True, trouble is, I have no idea what you wanted for payment," Black said. He gave the stretcher a sudden shove and rammed it into Opal's stomach. He snatched the Black Pawn out of her hand as she fell.

Seconds later, he was rammed from behind and Harry flew out of his hand.

"No!" he cried.

A girl with Weasley red hair appeared from somewhere to make a spectacular diving catch.

"Run!" she shrieked. She rolled to her feet and scampered out the door. A familiar, stocky blond boy and a pug-faced blonde girl raced after Ginny. The three were gone before Sirius could get his wits around him. Not wanting to meet any Aurors, Black Apparated away. When he could catch his breath, Sirius grinned to himself. If that was the Weasley girl, Harry had some explaining to do. He grinned wider. "_Sirius_ explaining to do," he said aloud.

Aftermath:

Dumbledore wasn't used to being an anti-climax, but he wasn't at all displeased that the younger generations had handled the fight without him. They were going to have to learn to get along without him. Even without the looming war, he wasn't getting any younger.

The Aurors came and took charge of the remaining chess men. The animation charge had worn off shortly after Sirius and Dr. Opal had escaped. 

"Don't think we're going to get much out of these," one of the Aurors told Dumbledore and Mr. Parkinson. "It doesn't take a Ravenclaw Prefect to see these are a homemade job."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Thank you, Ellery."

The silvery eyed Auror shook his head. "Can you believe those kids? Tackling Sirius Black the way they did? If my boss doesn't put them in for some sort of medal, I'm going to snap my wand… over his head!"

"I have to agree with you that they deserve some sort of award," Dumbledore murmured.

Mr. Parkinson had taken charge of sorting out the hospital staff.

"York, how did she manage to put the staff to sleep?" Dumbledore asked.

"She used Poppy Perfume and a fountain jigsaw puzzle," Mr. Parkinson said. "She filled the fountain with the Poppy Perfume and when the nurses finished assembling it, it just sprayed the main reception area. The other floors were gassed, too. My guess is she gassed those floors directly, then used the puzzle to get the main floor."

Ellery was taking notes. "Any idea who owned the puzzle?" he asked.

"I believe it was Mr. Potter's birthday present from Miss Granger," Mr. Parkinson answered. 

Ellery sighed. "Just my luck," he said. 

Dumbledore left them to their work and went to see Harry. There were a lot of Aurors in the Haunted Wing now. All of whom had once been his students. None of whom challenged his right to be there. Sometimes, it was good to be Merlin.

The _drawback_ to being Merlin is that everybody expected you to be the one to pull off the impossible on a daily basis. You were expected to fight off the forces of evil, ensure the triumph of justice and to never, ever make a mistake.

Dumbledore had made another mistake. He had trusted Cressida Opal. He had never suspected that she had harbored a grudge, even though he had known she was upset over Tiberius marrying Tatiana.

Dumbledore remembered all the times when Dr. Opal had petitioned the Council to have Harry brought in for a proper check up. He had thought that noble of her, when in fact she'd been planning…?

Dumbledore didn't know what she had been planning. All he knew was that Petunia Evans Dursley had been proven right in not trusting the wizarding community, while he had trusted the wrong person. 

He shook his head sadly. He couldn't afford to make such mistakes with Harry's life. The boy had been through hell. Dumbledore didn't know if Harry could take much more before he turned into the very thing the Order was so desperately trying to protect him from. 

His train of thought was derailed when he slipped, and he just managed to prevent himself from falling. He'd better pay attention. It wouldn't do for the 'Great' Albus Dumbledore to die by slipping on… He looked around. The corridor was liberally splashed with something that looked like chocolate. He dabbled his fingers in a blot on the wall and sniffed it. Definitely chocolate.

This was intriguing.

When he arrived at Harry's room, he found a nice sized crowd there, several of whom had bright red hair. Thank _God_ for the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Percy were there. As were Hagrid, the Grangers, Neville Longbottom and his own daughter, although Mr. Parkinson had definitely told Helga to get some sleep.

Dumbledore was grieved to see Harry looking so pale and there were a few more white streaks in his hair than there had been the last time Dumbledore had seen him. The distress in the boy's green eyes faded when he spied Dumbledore. Yes, there _were_ times when it _was_ good to be Merlin.

"How are you feeling, my boy?" he asked, knowing how stupid the question was.

"Tired, and confused," Harry said as if confessing to some sin. He clasped his hands and pulled his knees up. 

"I don't blame you, my boy," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, 'One may smile, and smile, and be a villain,' as Shakespeare said."

Ginny Weasley gave up her chair and settled on Harry's bed. Harry smiled faintly at her as Dumbledore accepted her unspoken invitation to have a seat.

He wondered if there was romance developing between Harry and Ginny. If so, it would be good for both of them. 

"Why did she do that?" Ron asked resentfully. "She seemed so nice!" He leaned against the wall next to Harry's bed with his arms crossed.

"Was it really Dr. Opal?" Hermione asked from her perch on a trunk next to Harry's bed. "I mean, you're sure it wasn't somebody using Polyjuice Potion again?" she sounded like she wanted someone to contradict her.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Helga said sadly. "I spent a lot of time and effort to create special protections against imposters during the first war with Voldemort."

Everyone except Harry and Dumbledore winced at the name. Even the Grangers were picking up on the 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' phobia.

"I'm afraid that Cressida Opal has joined Voldemort of her own free will," Helga added sadly. "Such a waste. She was brilliant, and talented, and she had no lack of suitors after she started working here. I don't know why…" Helga held her hand to her head. 

Ron muttered something under his breath that everybody else chose not to hear. "She seemed so nice," he said aloud. "She never said I was stupid when I didn't understand her instructions the first time. She didn't seem to mind that the Grangers were Muggles. She… she was…" He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. "I just don't get it. She even fussed over Hagrid."

"More'n likely she jus' wanted me out of the way," Hagrid said sadly. "She kep' after me to take me medicine. If I had, I wouldna' bin awake fer the fight."

"Oh," Ron said. "Bug…" he caught Hermione's eye. "Bother," he said instead.

"Unfortunately, a murderer can be the nicest person in the word, until he decides you're the one he wants to murder," Hermione said darkly.

"That's quite profound, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said.

"She read it somewhere," Ron guessed fondly.

Hermione grinned at him. 

Harry sighed. "You know what gets me, is that she managed to be nasty while seeming to be nice," he said. "She made sure that the chess set was in a central location. She put the puzzle where the nurses could play with it and knock themselves out. She kept doing things that she _had_ to know would upset me, like letting me know that that _Kirtty_ thing could be fatal, or by making me worry that I'm going to disgrace the Potter name by not becoming Head Boy." He looked at Dumbledore. 

Without thinking, Ginny clasped his hand. "Who cares if you make Head Boy?" Ginny said. "You were wonderful!" she said gazing soulfully (she hoped) into his eyes. "You took on more of those chess pieces than anybody else!"

Harry gave her a lop-sided smile and squeezed her hand. "Well, it's not like I had a choice," he said. Absently, he noticed that she had calluses on her hands. Probably from working around The Burrow, Harry thought.

Ginny blushed.

"But I doubt that I'll be Head Boy like my father and my grandfather," he added glumly. "I don't even _want_ to be Head Boy." He looked down at his hands, but decided not to let go of Ginny's. The back of her hand was very smooth, and had a scattering of freckles on it.

"Your academic record isn't anything to be ashamed of," Dumbledore said firmly. "Plus, you have pressures on you that James and Tiberius lacked. The fact that you've survived everything the dark side has thrown at you is something to be proud of." He looked around the room. "You can _all_ be very proud of yourselves. You've passed this test by fire with honors."

"Does that mean we'll get bonus points on our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. for this?" Ron asked hopefully.

This was greeted with sniggers from around the room.

"I'll look into that," Dumbledore said. He felt a smile creep onto his face. "Mr. Longbottom, I will definitely tell your grandmother about the heroic part that you played."

Neville shrugged. "I didn't do much," he said quietly.

"You knocked over one of the most wanted criminals in the wizarding world," Ginny said. "That's something!"

"Maybe," Neville didn't sound convinced.

Harry looked at him worriedly and wondered if Neville knew about Sirius. He could hardly ask him there, so he decided on a quick change of subject. 

Giving Dumbledore a faint smile, he said, "Maybe you could get Hagrid another Honorary O.W.L., this one in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He let go of Ginny's hand and picked up his snake rope. "This sure came in handy."

"It was nuthin'" Hagrid said. "Yer the one what worked out how ter use it."

"There's a way besides the whistles?" Dumbledore asked, intrigued.

"It understands Parseltongue," Harry said happily. "Watch." He ordered the rope to climb back into his trunk. 

Ginny winced.

The snake rope slithered over to Harry's trunk and paused until Hermione jumped off and opened it. Then the snake rope slithered inside.

"Cool, huh?" Harry said. "It's easier for me to use Parseltongue than to remember all those whistles."

"It certainly wouldn't do any harm to practice that skill, either," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

"Right now, what he needs to practice is his sleep," Madam Handwerker said firmly. "Visiting hours are officially _over_."

"C'n I sleep in this wing?" Hagrid ask.

"Yes, I think that might be wise," Madam Handwerker agreed.

They stood to leave when Emma thought to ask about Olivia Guppy.

Helga sighed. "She hasn't been dealing with the shock of the attack very well, poor girl. She has handed in her resignation." She frowned. "I really don't know what to do for her. She doesn't have any family to turn to. The staff has been acting as her family since she finished at Hogwarts."

Harry winced in sympathy.

"I've been thinking," Dumbledore said. "That perhaps Madam Pomfrey would care for some assistance this year." He made a wry face. "I will take it up with her at the first opportunity."

Helga smiled up at him and Dumbledore felt twenty years younger.

"Thanks, Dad," Helga said.

Make that forty years younger.

"While you're feeling so grateful, I guess this is time for me to ask a favor," Dumbledore said. "I have an idea for how to protect Mr. Potter. He shot Harry a sideways look. "I know of a very well trained dog named Snuffles. I think it would be a good idea to station him inside Mr. Potter's room."

"I'll think on it," Madam Handwerker said sternly. "Now, everybody, out!" She looked around sternly. 

"I think somebody should stay with Harry," Hermione said. "You know, to keep an eye on him?"

"I suppose that would be a good idea," Madam Handwerker said. She turned to Harry. "I take it you wouldn't have any objection if Miss Weasley were to stay with you for a while?" she asked with a twinkle in her pale blue eyes.

Harry looked at Ginny and grinned. "I wouldn't object at all, Madam Handwerker," Harry said.

"Good," Helga said with a slight smile. "The rest of you, out! Now!"

There was silence for a few minutes after the room emptied. "Erm, shall we work on my other jigsaw puzzle?" Harry asked. "Or will finishing the Quidditch puzzle get me hit in the face with a Bludger?"

Ginny giggled. "No, nothing like that. You just get to watch the last part of the match." She slid off Harry's bed. "Here, let me get it."

Harry settled back. Things were looking up. His homework was done. He was leaving the hospital soon. He had all of August to laze around in. Best of all, he was far away from the Dursleys.

He watched Ginny set the puzzle out and felt a quiver of anticipation. On second thought, maybe the best part of the summer won't have anything to do with the Dursleys at all.

Later that Evening:

"Ron, can we talk to you for a moment in the front room?" Arthur Weasley asked his youngest son.

Ron's stomach gave a lurch. "Yeah, what is it?" he tried to keep his voice casual as if he didn't have any guilty secrets to worry about. After all, he didn't have any recent guilty secrets… _unless you count becoming an illegal Animagus as a guilty secret_.

Both his parents were in the front room. _This could be bad_.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Your mother and I have been talking," Arthur said. "And we thought it might be better for Harry if he didn't have to traipse up and down the stairs until he was feeling a bit stronger. Tomorrow, we'd like you to help us fix up the front room so he'll have a little privacy here."

Ron sighed. _That was it?_ "Um, I'm going to be at the hospital most of the day," he said. "I'm going to be on duty and Hermione will want to have an O.W.L. study session. No, wait, even Hermione won't want to have a study session right after all that. Harry needs to rest."

"Ah, perhaps we could move the O.W.L. sessions to the Burrow," Molly said. "Or was there a reason you need to be at the hospital?"

"Well, we were using the hospital library," Ron said. "But I guess we can just Floo to the regular library."

"We could buy you some study guides, if you want," Arthur said. "Did you need any in particular?"

"Well," Ron thought. "Potions is probably my worse subject, and it's the one I particularly want to get an O.W.L. in."

His parents exchanged dismayed looks. _What did I say?_

"Why do you need a Potions O.W.L.?" Arthur asked almost too casually. "Not many Ministry jobs require it."

__

Okay, Ron thought. _Here goes_. "Well, I'm not planning on going for a Ministry job," Ron said.

"Really?" Molly tried to force herself be calm. "What did you have in mind, dear?" _Oh, please tell me you don't want to work for the twins!_

Ron took a deep breath. "I've decided that I want to become a Mediwizard."

One minute of silence.

Two minutes of silence.

Three minutes of silence.

Then… "Oh, _Ron_!" Molly cried.

__

Oh, Merlin, I've made my mother cry. Now what?

Molly threw her arms around him. "I am so _proud_ of you!" She squeezed him tightly and soaked the front of his shirt.

Ron shot a panicky look at his father.

Arthur patted him on the back and said, "We're both very proud of you, son." His smile said very clearly, _I'm glad she's crying on you and not me_.

"I haven't done anything yet!" Ron protested, squirming a little. He didn't know which was more unsettling. The fact that his mother was crying or the fact that he was looking down at the top of her head.

"But you've made a decision!" Molly said, sniffing a little. "You've decided to take on a noble profession."

"Yeah, but deciding to do it isn't doing it," Ron pointed out. "I have to get really good marks and I'm not sure I can pull it off."

"I think you can do just about anything you put your mind to," Arthur said quietly.

"Thanks, Dad," Ron said. He could feel the tips of his ears burning.

"Excuse me," Molly said. She pulled away from Ron and pulled out a handkerchief. "I think I'll make a spot of tea, Arthur? Ron?"

"No thanks, Mum," Ron said. He escaped up the stairs. 

He stopped at his door. There was nothing to do in there, or so he told himself. He'd been feeling restless since the battle at the hospital. The idea that he might fail to get an apprenticeship bothered him. The idea that he'd become so fond of somebody like Cressida Opal bothered him. He wondered how much worse Remus and Sirius had felt when they found out that one of their best friends had betrayed them. He didn't want to think about serious subjects anymore, so he decided to do what _any_ red-blooded wizard would do. He tromped back downstairs to pester his sister. 

Ron knocked on Ginny's door. "Hey, Punkin-head!" he called cheerfully, sticking his head in without waiting for an invitation.

Ginny looked up. "Don't call me that!" she hissed.

"Sorr-ee!" Ron said, taken aback.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Sorry, just a little touchy today."

"What for? Didn't your date with Harry go well?" Ron asked. 

"It was not a date," Ginny said. "We just put together a Quidditch puzzle and talked about Quidditch and… erm, actually, that was it. Quidditch Afternoon with Harry. Not very romantic."

"Hey, give him some time to work up to that," Ron said. "At least you can talk to him without turning purple and squeaking like some sort of mutant mouse."

"Thank you so kindly for the reminder," Ginny said dryly. "What did you and Hermione do?"

Ron grinned. "We looked at flowers," he said. "The hospital has a garden." His grin became wider. "And it also has a gift shop. I bought Hermione a flower poem book behind her back."

"A what?" Ginny asked.

"A flower poem book," Ron repeated. "When you recite one of the poems, the page you're on bursts into flowers."

"Now that's romantic, did she like it?"

"She hasn't seen it yet. It's for her birthday!" Ron said happily. 

"You'll make a good boyfriend," Ginny said. 

"You think?" Ron asked.

"Definitely. Now, be a good _brother_ and go away, I'm reading."

"What are you reading? Astronomy?" It was a safe guess. Eighty percent of Ginny's books were either Astronomy books or Sickle Romance Novels.

"Words, words, words," quoted Ginny. She closed her book and casually laid it on the bedside table.

"More Shakespeare?" Ron asked, vaguely remembering that Shakespeare had put that response to the 'what are you reading' question into somebody's mouth. His attention was more on the fact that Ginny had "casually" laid the book _face down_.

"Don't tell me that you're reading one of those Sickle Romances that Mum's always complaining about!" Ron exclaimed. He strode over to her bed.

Ginny made a frantic snatch at the book, but Ron grabbed her wrist and snagged his prize. "Ha! Really, Ginny, aren't you too young to be reading…" He looked at the title of the book and his coppery eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. "_Curses Foiled Again: A Guide to Passing the Defense Against Dark Arts O.W.L._" He looked at her and saw she was turning pink.

He leafed through the book, but it was actually what it said on the cover. There were no wild, embarrassing scenes inside. "So, why the blush? Say, is this how you were able to pass that PROWL?" he asked ironically. He waved the book under Ginny's nose.

Ginny nodded.

"That's a relief. I thought I was losing my mind when you could pass and I couldn't." Ron shook his head. "Honestly, you're worse than Hermione! At least she didn't start studying for her O.W.L.s until last year, and you've been studying for them since when?"

"Not all of them, just Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ginny said quietly. "Ever since the summer after my first year."

Ron went white. He didn't need it spelled out for him. Ginny had been doing extra work in Defense Against the Dark Arts ever since she'd been rescued from Riddle's diary.

"Bill gave me some Defense Against the Dark Arts PROWL books when we went to see him in Egypt," she said.

Ron looked at her, and then looked at the book. "Ginny, I…" he had to swallow a few times. " I'm sorry. I never realized that it, that you…" He handed the book to her. "I am such an idiot. You got possessed by the damn diary and kidnapped and I never… I just kept acting like everything was business as usual… I should have…"

Ginny leaped to her feet and grabbed Ron's arm with her free hand. "Ron, it's okay, really it is."

"But I treated you like nothing had happened!"

Ginny gave his arm a shake. "That's exactly what I needed from you. I _needed_ you to act like I was just your bratty little sister, not some fragile, spun-glass figurine that would shatter in a high wind. I got enough of that from Mum and Dad and Percy, believe me." The corner of her mouth quirked. "You and the twins kept me sane by proving that I really was still just Ginny Weasley."

"I could have been nicer," Ron said. "Especially the next school year."

"Yeah, well, you were kind of distracted by that madman Sirius Black running around trying to do in poor Harry."

"Oh, right," Ron sighed. "That was very brave of you to tackle him like that, by the way."

The tone of his voice caused Ginny studied him curiously. He sounded almost _amused_, but before she could say anything, their Mum called up the stairs for them to come down.

"We have a visitor," she announced.

"Professor Dumbledore," Ginny said when she entered the front room.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll feel a lot better when Harry is out of that hospital," Ron said bluntly.

"I hope you realize that one traitor doesn't mean that none of the Mediwizards are to be trusted," Dumbledore said soberly.

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. He scraped his foot on the floor. "It's just that I don't like the idea of Harry being there all alone. You know?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I believe that I know what you mean." He looked at Ginny. "Miss Weasley, tell me, how do you feel about dogs?"

Ginny blinked in surprise. "I like them, I guess," she said. "Why? Oh, you mean the guard dog you are going to give Harry?"

"Yeah, wait until you see it!" Ron interjected. "It looks like a Grim! I take it you mean Snuffles," he added to Dumbledore.

"Yes, that's the dog I had in mind," Dumbledore said with a smile

"He'll be bringing the dog here, then?" Ginny said. The idea of a huge, scary dog made her nervous, but if it meant that Harry could stay here, she wouldn't mind… much. 

"That's the current plan," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Parkinson has said that Harry's condition is still under control and that he can recuperate here just as easily as at the hospital."

"Erm, it doesn't chase cats, does it?"

"Pixie can take care of herself," Ron said. "Besides, Snuffles is a good dog. He won't pester the owls, either."

"Good," Ginny said. "It'll be great to have Harry here where I… erm.. We can take care of him!" She waited for some teasing for that, but nobody did more than smile approvingly.

It was going to be a good August.

Ghost Story

In a darkened hospital room, Harry was huddled up in a heavily charmed bed listening to a different kind of a ghost story. Sprawled on the floor beside his bed was a huge, black dog, who also listened avidly to stories of James' childhood.

"James would have liked you, Snuffles," Tiberius told the dog. "He loved animals. Why, he was always rescuing injured cats and birds and gnomes and anything else that crossed his path. I always knew he'd be a hero."

Harry reached down and scratched Snuffles' ears. "I expect he thought you were a hero, too. Right, Snuffles?"

"Woof," Snuffles agreed.

"I'm glad that Dr. Opal didn't hurt you," Harry said.

Tiberius smiled sadly. "My boy, I'm already dead, she can't hurt me any more. She couldn't even exorcise me. All she could do was to expel me from the room for a while." He sighed. "I won't be able to stay much longer, let me know if Helga's heating charm starts to fail before that, all right?"

"Okay," Harry said. 

"What story do you want to hear next?" Tiberius asked.

"How did you and Grandmother Tatiana meet?"

"We actually met during our first flying lesson," Tiberius said. "I was in Gryffindor and she was in Hufflepuff. The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. It was wild even before we tried flying and it had a very distinctive colour."

"I thought she had black hair?" Harry said. He frowned, but he couldn't remember if anybody had ever said anything about the colour of her hair. He'd only heard that it had been wild and had started turning white when she was relatively young.

Tiberius grinned. "Oh, no, you got the black hair from _me_," his grin broadened. "Your grandmother was a red-head."

Snuffles coughed… loudly.

Harry brought his blankets up to cover his face. "So, I guess I should stick with red-heads, then?" he asked. 

"It worked for me, I hear it worked for your father, and if I remember my own mother's hair…"

Harry held his hand up. "We'll _see_ if it works for me," he said. "It's a little early to be deciding that." And he had all of August to explore the idea, he thought happily.

*** ***

****

Author's Notes:

Thanks to my sharp eyed beta reader, Anne, who spots my plot holes as well as my grammatical errors.

Thanks to my sharp eyed readers who spotted my mistakes!

Correction 1: "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agly." Is actually by Robert Burns. (Thanks Sociofemme!)

Correction 2: The tonic that Lucy was selling is _Vitameatavegamin_ not _Vegameatavitamin. _My thanks and five house points to everybody who spotted that. I looked it up online, but my source was wrong! (I knew I shouldn't have sampled the stuff!)

"A murderer can be the nicest person in the world, until he decides you're the one he's going to murder." is by Scott Corbett.

'One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.' -- is actually Shakespeare this time. (Hamlet, in fact.)

"Words, words, words" – is also Hamlet

The "Did Marie Antoinette have great legs?" joke came from a long ago television series called "Voyagers." In that, a pair of time travelers went around fixing history. The only connection with Harry Potter is that Jeffrey Jones had adorably messy black hair.

****

Review Responses:

You are the absolute best readers an obsessed fan-girl like me could hope for!

Bob: Thanks! Glad my story was worth staying up for! ** Re: the PROWLS: I was basing them on my experience with certification tests. The questions not only ask for obscure details, they are frequently worded in a very convoluted manner. Understanding how to do the test is half the battle. ** grin Watch out for them Snapdragons! ** Oh, Harry could act like a spoiled celebrity if he wanted to. He just wouldn't like himself much then. ** Good idea for how to allow Harry to write to Tiberius. I'll keep that in mind, thanks! ** I won't worry too much about this story being AU. (Aren't Ozma's stories the coolest?)

Rhiain: Thanks for reviewing! More is on the way!

Angel of the North: Thanks! Glad you like long chapters! (I noticed that my chapters kept getting longer the longer the story got. I think I went from six page chapters to twenty page chapters.) ** Sorry the business with the colours didn't work for you. ** Good idea to ask Nicely for help with the PROWLS. She'd probably be very helpful with the Transfiguration PROWL. 

GunSmoke: Thanks! Here's the rest1 (However, that's 'old girl,' not 'old boy' ;-)

Amulder: Thanks for writing up any kind of review! ** You're welcome for the story! ** Good point, how will Pansy and Millicent act once they're among the Slytherins again? ** Thanks, glad you liked Ginny passing the DADA PROWL! ** That's exactly what I had planned for those hideous robes! ** The robe is going to get used somehow. ** Thanks for reading!

Eris, Queen of the Shadows: Sorry I posted too fast! I just wanted to get the story out in time! Thanks for reviewing both 18 and 19! (And thanks for reviewing over at GT.net!) ** You are correct, it really isn't Hermione's fault that Nicely caught on fire. ** Thanks for telling me your favorite parts! ** Yes, Harry is definitely moving towards Ginny. 

AerinBrown: Thanks for the review! ** Glad that you like my humor!

Alla: Hello, I'm so pleased that you like this story enough to keep coming back and reviewing! ** Yes, I am an evil person. "When I'm good I'm very, very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better!" ** I was that obvious, was I? grin ** Ginny doesn't know the Marauders yet. ** Thanks for telling me your favorite bits!

Alla : Hi, again! Glad you found the PROWLs to be THAT funny! :-) ** Poor Harry, I think it will take a while for him to realize the people genuinely care about him!

LileeAlina: Thanks for reviewing! ** Yep, Ginny overreacted a bit. ** Cat!Harry hid under the bed because he was embarrassed about the whole 'almost getting skewered there' business. ** Moody didn't forgive Sirius. There's nothing to forgive Sirius for, he's innocent. Moody was relieved because he'd trusted Sirius at one point. He's glad to know that he wasn't taken in by one of Voldie's minions. ** Lily broke the wand somehow, possibly in the line of duty. It didn't do magic on its own, it was just feeding magic into Lily's distraction charm. A carnelian is a reddish, semi-precious gemstone. I hope the rest of your questions will be answered in future chapters. ** Thanks for catching my grammar error.

Rachnmi: Thanks for the review! ** All Slytherins can't be bad! There's nothing wrong with ambition.

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Lan: Thanks! ** You can look for it under my name. But you don't have to worry just yet, this story is going into overtime.

Ozma: Hi, partner! Thanks for reviewing! ** Thanks for telling me what parts you liked! ** Oh, yes, it wasn't that long ago I was taking finals, too. I remember it well. ** I figure Parvati has to be more than a bubblehead. In the first book, she came to the defense of both Neville and Harry (during the flying lesson scene.) ** Loved the comment about not being able to hear Harry because his robe is too loud. I'll have to steal that line. ;-) ** Actually, Hermione won't hate her form. She'll hate BEING her form. It plays on one of the few things that she's bad at. 

Von: Thanks for reviewing ** Actually, the big finale has been postponed because I'm taking on what I'd written for "A Sirius Situation." This is now a year fic.

Chary: Thanks for the lovely long review! I do hope that you finish your story soon! ** Thanks for telling me your favorite parts! ** Actually, I posted those two chapters one right after the other. I was planning to post this chapter last week, but something about it bothered me. I finally found all the problems with it and so, here it is! ** I don't know if I said anything about her gender before, that's why I put it in there. ** There's no way that Dumbledore would have let Sirius go to Azkaban if he had known the truth. At the time, he was in a good position to stop it, too. ** I hope your questions will all be answered in the next five chapters. ;-) This story has decided to go into overtime!

Pseudonym Sylphmuse: Thanks!

Little House Girl: Thanks! I will keep writing!

Lady Knight of Kennan: Thanks for reviewing! ** I was planning on two stories, but "A Sirius Situation" isn't going to work, so now this is going to go through to the O.W.L.s

Female Fred: Thanks! Harry will get out of the hospital. Question is, can he stay out? ** Unfortunately, the question of visiting his grandfather will have to wait. 

Hpforever: Thanks for the review! ** What part of my characterization of Moody struck you as being wrong? ** "A Sirius Situation" will be a sixth year fic now.

Ems: Thanks! Glad you like the story!

ruffled owl: Thanks for reviewing! Sugarquill is now caught up to ff.net! ** This isn't the last chapter anymore! 

Allison: Thanks! If anybody deserves a party, it's Mr. Potter!

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Psychochick: Thanks for the review! GT.net and FF.net are now on the same chapter! ** I figure it will take a while for Harry to fall. ** Thanks, glad you like my take on Hermione's parents. I wanted them to be likeable and somebody who would be likely to let their daughter go off to wizard school. ** Poor Viktor. The wrong guy and the wrong time. I hope Rowling shows him finding happiness.

Lemon Drop: Thanks!

Surfing Sirius: Thanks for the review! ** Nope, Hermione's form is not spider. (I wouldn't do that to poor Ron!) ** Sorry, my wording was convoluted. Hermione's form is NOT something you wouldn't want in your home. (I'll adopt one any old day, myself. I think they're adorable!)

lemon drop: More is on the way, I have five more chapters written!

Andrea13: Thanks for the review! ** Bar exams sound scary, I hope you did well! ** Glad my story is worth your limited free time! ** Thanks for telling me your favorite parts!

Bucky: Thanks! Yes, I intend to keep up this story line. It's taken over my brain!

eedoe: Thanks for reviewing and for pointing out the error with the VITAmeataVEGamin

Rjk2005: Thanks for the review! ** Love your "Rules for Constant Vigiliance" by the way. ** I figure Ron and Harry have started rubbing off on each other by now. Bet Harry's a Chudley Cannons fan, too! ** I'm glad you decided to read my story, too!

Punkin: You are not a terrible person! You are a wonderful person for reviewing when you can! ** Hope Aimee can still read it, too! Sorry she's not going back to your school next year. (So, what will she be doing?) ** Thanks for telling me your favorite parts! ** It's not over yet, there are at least five more chapters after this 'final' one. :-)

Rjk2005: Thanks for telling me the parts that you liked! ** There's a quote to the effect that at some point, every man does something that can get him hanged. (I'll have to look it up sometime.) ** Thanks for putting me on your favorites list! 

Lucky: Thanks for the compliments! ** I doubt it's much like the fifth book, though. But we'll find out soon! Gah! I'm almost out of time!

Cerberis Thanks for all the compliments! ** I try to use proper grammar and correct spelling! 

Reyna: Thanks for reviewing! Wow, you look forward to my stuff almost as much as Rowlings? I'm so flattered! Thank you! ** Yeah, I wasn't sure about Pansy, but I've known girls who acted one way when their boyfriends were around and a different way when they were alone. ** Thanks for telling me your favorite parts!

InfiniteMoment: Thanks for telling me the parts you liked. I really sweated over chapter thirteen, I'm tellin' ya! ;-)

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SillyGillie: Thanks for reading! I was sort of planning a whole fifth year story, but it didn't pan out. This one will continue into the fifth year. 

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LilyFlower: I intend to keep going! Thanks!


	21. Kidnapped!

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Chapter 21:  Kidnapped

A Grim Beginning

Plans change. 

Harry had expected to go to The Burrow for the remainder of the summer holidays. Instead, the Ministry of Magic had stepped in. The Ministry Aurors had come in without warning and had stunned Snuffles and banished Tiberius. Then they had hustled Harry out of St. Mungo's over the objections of the Haunted Wing's other patient, Hagrid, and Madame Handwerker, director of St. Mungo's and daughter of Albus Dumbledore. 

They didn't let Harry send a message. He wasn't even given time to get dressed. Which is how he wound up, bound to a chair in the middle of the courtroom, facing the Council of Magic wearing his Quidditch pyjamas, a grey prison robe and something on his feet that vaguely resembled shoes.

Fudge had insisted that it was all for his own good. 

"What's so good about being kidnapped?" Harry had asked him.

Fudge's manner became increasingly sour after that. 

The only things that had kept Harry from dying of sheer boredom during his incarceration were the useless and the illegal.

The guards were always nice to him. They talked about Quidditch when they were able to speak to him, and occasionally they would smuggle in some Chocolate Frogs or Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. 

However, for the most part, Harry was alone in his cell with nothing to do. Obviously having reading material was right out. No telling what sort of dangerous dark spells might be lurking in the _Daily Prophet or those Quidditch magazines! Not that Harry could have read anything, anyway, as they had taken away his eyeglasses. Apparently, his being able to see was not in his own best interest._

All Harry had to work with were Trelawney's normally useless meditation lessons. They were proving beneficial because they allowed him to review the contents of his own mind. Specifically, the contents that had been put in there by Nicely, _The Animagus Survival Guide_.

Harry knew that Ginny and Hermione were right about Nicely. What she had done was dangerous. What he was doing was not only dangerous, but also highly illegal. However, if he was going to be treated like a criminal, maybe he should at least commit a crime. It afforded him some grim amusement that the Minster of Magic was forcing him to break the law. 

When the guards had come to get him that morning, they were apologetic, but firm. He had been summoned before the Council of Magic. Then he was bound to the chair the way the Death Eaters had been at the trial of Barty Crouch, Jr.

"We want a full account of what had happened the night of the Third Task," Fudge told him.

Harry knew that what the Council really wanted was reassurance that Voldemort hadn't _really_ returned. They insisted that he give them details, yet they flinched every time that he said Voldemort's name. Then Fudge had brought up the events surrounding Sirius Black's various escapes – first from Azkaban, then from Hogwarts.

Fudge wanted to make Sirius his scapegoat. He wanted to make out that the whole 'You-Know-Who' resurrection scenario was a ploy by Voldemort's right-hand man.

Harry wasn't having any of it.  

"Mr. Potter, if you are not going to cooperate, then I'm going to have to insist on administering Veritaserum."

"I'm answering your questions, what more can I do?"

"Cornelius, is that _legal_?" a stocky, grey-haired man objected.

"Rigel, I hadn't heard that you'd come out of retirement," Lucius Malfoy said snidely.

"I am here as an observer, Lucius, as is my right," Rigel replied.

"You don't have any say in the proceedings, however," Mcnair said.

"I'm only asking a question," Rigel said, looking at Mcnair with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, Rigel, I have a signed consent form from his guardians," Fudge said with a smirk. "Mr. Potter, your aunt and uncle were not surprised that you were taken into custody. Apparently, you've been quite the discipline problem for them. Not to mention that your record at Hogwarts is highly suspect."

"My aunt and uncle didn't know how to deal with involuntary magic, Minister," Harry growled. "As for my record at Hogwarts, are you referring to me stopping Quirrell from stealing the Philosopher's Stone for Voldemort, to my killing the basilisk or my getting kidnapped after the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"Your teachers had many complaints about your behavior!"  
  


"Really? What exactly did Professor Flitwick, Professor Sinistra, Professor Hagrid, Professor Sprout, Professor Binns, Madam Hooch, or Professor McGonagall have to say against me?" Harry demanded.

"They, well, I did not speak to all of your teachers," Fudge huffed.

"Well, that's all of the teachers that I've had, except for Professor Trelawney and Professor Snape. Professor Trelawney doesn't like me because I keep ruining her predictions that I'm going to die. Did you talk to Professor Remus Lupin? He used to be my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"It's well known that Lupin was a friend of your father's," Fudge growled.

"And it's equally well known that Professor Snape hated my father," Harry said. "Maybe you should talk to somebody a little less prejudiced about me."

Somebody snorted with amusement.

"That… that is immaterial," snapped Fudge. 

"Speaking of school, will I be out of here by the start of term? I don't want to get behind in my studies."

"It… it might not be wise to allow you to go back to school," Fudge said. "There are security factors to consider." He cut off Harry's attempt to answer. "Let's get on with this, Mcnair, the Veritaserum."

Mcnair approached with a vial of clear liquid and a smug expression.

"Aren't you the wizard who acts as executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures?" Harry asked. "Nice to know where I stand as far as Fudge is concerned, isn't it?"

"Yes, Potter," Mcnair sneered. "I remember you. Wouldn't happen to know what became of Hagrid's misplaced Hippogriff, do you?"

"I want a solicitor ," Harry said. "Somebody who will actually stand up for my rights. Where is Professor Albus Dumbledore, Professor Minerva McGonagall or Mr. Arthur Weasley?" He squinted around the room; there was no sign of Dumbledore's silvery hair or Weasley red hair. Nobody moved and nobody spoke.

"Can I at least have my glasses?"

The crowd murmured, but nobody spoke.

There was a brief struggle. Mcnair won, of course, but he retired to his seat nursing the base of his thumb. He glowered at Harry as if he wanted to use his axe on the boy.

The potion froze his throat on its way down, and Harry's vision blurred even more.

Fudge chose to interrogate Harry himself. "So, Mr. Potter," Fudge said. "Please tell us if you have any knowledge of how Hagrid's Hippogriff managed to escape."

A small voice in the back of Harry's mind wanted to tell Fudge everything. It wasn't as convincing as the Imperius curse, so Harry told it to shut up unless it _really_ wanted to go to Azkaban. Harry did feel compelled to answer the question truthfully, though.

However, it took Harry a couple of seconds to unfreeze his voice. That gave him time to comb his thoughts out of the grey mold that had suddenly sprouted in him mind. "Hagrid said that Buckbeak must have pulled free," he answered in a dull voice with the dullest part of the truth of the incident.

"Snape said that you must have helped Black escape from Hogwarts. Where were you when Black escaped?"

The lovely part of the Time-Turner affair was that Harry actually had two different, equally truthful stories to choose from. "I was locked in the Hospital Wing with the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey. She was giving me chocolate," Harry said dully. "One of the Dementors that _you placed at Hogwarts had tried to kiss me." The best defense was a strong offense. It was the only way Harry's foggy mind could come up with to get Fudge to change the subject._

Fudge obliged by quickly moving on to his next question. He asked Harry about his encounter with Sirius Black in the Whomping Willow. Harry was glad to answer those questions, as the Time-Turner hadn't come in until after that. Besides, if Fudge continued on this line of questioning, he might make good on his assertion that this was for Harry's own good. After all, Sirius' name being cleared would definitely benefit him.

Fudge asked about Sirius' capture and the wizard who had produced the Patronus. There were a few gasps and what sounded like a snigger when Harry admitted that he'd thought his father had rescued him.

Fudge did not ask if Harry had been in two places at the same time, nor did he ask if Harry had been the one to produce the 'Unicorn Patronus.' The practice Harry had at throwing off the Imperius Curse enabled him to shrug off the Veritaserum's suggestion that he volunteer that information.

Fudge switched to interrogating Harry for details about events after the Third Task.

Harry stuck to the same story that he had told the first time, leaving out minor details that Fudge didn't ask about. (Like Sirius being in Hogwarts with Dumbledore's permission, or Dumbledore sending for the 'old gang.') It might have been more difficult keeping these unessential details out of his testimony if Fudge hadn't skimmed over the events that had happened after Harry had escaped from Voldemort. Apparently, the Minister of Magic didn't want to reveal too many details about his own behavior at that time. (Like allowing a Dementor to kiss a man before he could be questioned by the Ministry.)

Fudge was getting increasingly frustrated with Harry's answers and finally one of his minions offered to take over. "I have a way with children," Lucius Malfoy said smugly. He came forward looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 

Malfoy studied Harry with a jaundiced eye and Harry resisted the urge to shrink back.

"Really, Cornelius, do you think it is absolutely necessary to bind the child up like he was a full-fledged Death Eater?" Malfoy purred.

Harry's incredulous look was matched by Fudge's. It then became clear to Harry who had given Fudge the notion to chain him up. It should have been clear to the Council as well, but they were apparently a few pentacles short of a Tarot deck.

"With your permission." Malfoy didn't wait for Fudge to respond. He waved his wand and the chains undid themselves. "I think it's clear that Mr. Potter is telling the truth as he knows it," Malfoy said.

Fudge wasn't the only one who gasped. Harry looked at Lucius Malfoy the same way he would have looked at a Dementor who suddenly started singing Christian hymns.

"Lucius, weren't you listening?" Fudge sputtered. "He claims that _you_ have started supporting You-Know-Who of your own free will!"

Malfoy held up a hand. "I heard him, Cornelius," he said calmly. "I did not say he spoke the truth. I said that he spoke what he _thought was the truth. It seems clear to me that somebody is trying to use The-Boy-Who-Lived to convince the wizarding world that the Dark Lord has returned."_

Several people gasped. Harry wondered if some of them had just realized who he was. Apparently, their Tarot decks were missing the Major Arcana.

"Sirius Black," snarled Fudge.

The stocky man who had objected to Fudge giving Harry Veritaserum looked ill.

"I think not," Malfoy said smoothly. "If we examine Mr. Potter's testimony, you'll see that there is reason to believe that his belief that Sirius Black is innocent might be true."

Another gasp from the audience. Harry might have gasped as well, except the Veritaserum was dulling his reactions.

"Think, how did Sirius Black escape from Hogwarts?"

"Snape said…" Fudge trailed off.

"Severus Snape is a _trifle_ prejudiced in the matter, don't you think?" Malfoy purred. "Albus Dumbledore, Poppy Pomfrey, and even you can testify to the fact that Mr. Potter had been locked in the Hospital Wing. There is no way for him to have freed Black." Malfoy gave Harry a speculative look, as if he wondered before he continued. "Another point to consider is how did Black escape from _Azkaban? Even Snape would have a hard time blaming The-Boy-Who-Lived for that one." _

Malfoy began to pace and Harry could sense him gathering the audience into the palm of his hand. Not by magic, but by sheer personality. He also noted how Malfoy kept reminding everybody who Harry was. If Harry hadn't known of Lucius Malfoy's involvement with Tom Riddle's Diary, he might have believed that Malfoy was on his side.

"For the sake of argument, let us suppose that Sirius Black is truly innocent," Malfoy continued.

"But Dumbledore said that Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper," Fudge tried to get control of the situation. He failed miserably.

"True. However, Dumbledore is _not infallible," Malfoy said. "We must remember that. However great his achievements are, he is only a man and prone to error. He was fooled by Barty Crouch, Jr.'s impersonation. He trusted Dr. Cressida Opal to treat The-Boy-Who-Lived's recent illness."_

Thus reminding the audience that Harry was a) the one who had banished Voldemort so many years ago, b) was still a child and c) had been ill recently.

Malfoy suddenly turned to Harry.  "You said that your parents changed their mind about who to use as their Secret Keeper, did you not?"

"Yes, Sirius Black said that they'd decided that using him was too obvious," Harry croaked out.

"Excellent. This must have been a last minute change. No time to warn Dumbledore about the switch."

"I don't know," Harry was forced to say. He was scared now. If Lucius Malfoy started questioning him on how Sirius had escaped, he was likely to get enough information to have Harry and Dumbledore sent to Azkaban. However, Malfoy didn't seem interested in that.

"_Somebody_ betrayed the Potters," Malfoy said. "Black was framed. Then, years later, someone decided that he needed another scapegoat. Who better than Sirius Black? So, arrange for an escape from Azkaban. Arrange for him to terrorize Hogwarts in an attempt to get at Harry. We would all assume that he was trying to _kill Harry, when he was trying to __protect Harry." _

He touched Harry's shoulder and Harry had to resist the impulse to throw up on Malfoy's shiny boots. "Black went to Hogwarts to protect you, didn't he?"

"Yes," Harry choked out. This was true for his fourth year as well as his third. The Veritaserum wanted him to say that. Harry managed to hold his tongue and he actually felt gratitude that Lucius Malfoy was so effectively hogging the limelight.

"Then Black _mysteriously_ escapes from the escape-proof Hogwarts. A year later, Harry is forced into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, kidnapped and made to sit through a charade to convince him that You-Know-Who is back. This is not Black's style. I knew him in school. He was clever, but this sort of long-term planning was beyond him. I doubt that twelve years in Azkaban have improved his organizational skills _or his patience. His attempts to get at Harry prove that. A patient, organized man would not have given himself away by ripping up the portrait that guards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. __I think somebody wants us to __believe that You-Know-Who is back. Failing that, they want us to believe that Black is the person behind this plot."_

Malfoy stopped a few feet in front of Harry and struck a dramatic pose. "There are three major questions to be answered here. If Black is innocent, then who _is_ behind this? And if Black is innocent, how many other innocents are being held in Azkaban?"  His imperious gaze swept the audience. "Third, who's going to investigate to find out who has truly been wronged?"

Fudge looked like he wanted to throw up.

The stocky man, Rigel, looked like he'd been granted a last-minute stay of execution.

"I think that Mr. Potter can be excused, don't you, Minister?" Malfoy's steely tones brooked no argument. "I think The-Boy-Who-Lived has been through enough today."

"Yes, yes, of course," Fudge said distractedly.

There were censorious murmurs from the crowd. For once they were not aimed at Harry. He managed to get to his feet. He staggered and Rigel hurried forward to lend a shoulder. The guards came forward to escort Harry back to his cell. They didn't try to dislodge Rigel.

"What date is it?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter," Rigel said. "I'll make sure that you get on the Hogwarts Express."

"Thank yo… erm…" Harry hesitated.

"Rigel Black," his ally said. "Sirius is my son. You are the first person who ever suggested that my son might be innocent. You cannot know how much it means to me."

Train Tracks:

Plans change.

Ginny had expected to spend August lazing around The Burrow, finishing her essays and getting better acquainted with her future husband. All right, getting better acquainted with Harry. Then Fudge had kidnapped Harry. There was no way around it, Fudge was a monster.

Her father, Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Handwerker had raised a stink. Even York Parkinson and Amos Diggory had protested Harry's incarceration. Fudge had been adamant.

Tensions in The Burrow skyrocketed when Percy voiced the opinion that perhaps the Minister was right; that it _would better if Harry continued his education somewhere other than Hogwarts._

"There are security issues, you know," Percy said. "He's better off in the Ministry's care."

The twins had had to sit on Ron to keep him from attacking. The three hadn't spoken civilly to Percy since.

Now it was September 1 and the Weasleys had a compartment on the Hogwarts Express to themselves. (Lee Jordan had chosen to sit with Katie Bell. Hermione was at a Prefects' meeting.) 

They'd arrived early (to avoid Malfoy and his goons) and had checked all the compartments. None of the other early arrivals had seen Harry, but they'd promised to send him along if he turned up.

Harry never turned up. It was now close to lunchtime and the chances of Harry being at Hogwarts this year seemed dim. Ginny was surprised to realize that she actually felt hungry. She guessed that stomachs don't understand the romance of pining away for your loved one.

"You know, I used to dream about this," Ron said abruptly.

Ginny turned away from the window in surprise. Ron was the last one she expected to break the silence.

"Dream about what?" Fred said. The twins had been uncharacteristically solemn. That was why Fred hadn't added any sarcastic comments to his question.

"Us, having a compartment all to ourselves as we headed off to a new school year," Ron explained. "When I was ten, I'd imagined that this was how we'd always go to Hogwarts. The only one that's missing is Percy."

The others raised their eyebrows at this.

"Missing from the dream," Ron elaborated. "Right now I don't give a…"

"Ron, please," Ginny said.

Ron looked at her, but kept silent. He knew she had to be at least as unhappy that he was about Harry's abduction. He couldn't believe that she was still on speaking terms with Percy.

There was a long silence. Ginny went back to daydreaming about rescuing Harry. She checked on Hedwig, who had to be coaxed into eating. The snowy owl had her head tucked under her wing.

"I wish we'd done that, at least once," George said abruptly. "The five of us heading off to Hogwarts together. Might have been nice."

"Or we might have killed each other by the time we arrived," sighed Fred.

"Do tell," Ginny murmured, listening with half an ear. What she wished she could have done was to ride to Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione. She wished she had been in on their secrets.

Hermione's large ginger tom leaped into Ron's lap and complained, loudly.

"I keep telling you, Crookshanks, I don't know when Hermione will be back," Ron said. "Weren't you listening? I never rode with Percy. I don't know how long a Prefects' meeting takes."

Crookshanks sighed and flopped over onto his side. 

"Doesn't matter," George said glumly. "Percy always rode with the other prefects. He never came back from one of their meetings."

Usually, a comment like that would have provoked a snide comment from Ron or Ginny about how no one in their right minds would want to ride with the twins. Ginny wasn't in the mood and Ron was too furious with Percy to say anything in his favor. 

Pixie came over and licked Crookshanks' foot. Pining for Hermione, the tom just sighed deeply and didn't even look at her.

"I think Pixie fancies Crookshanks," Fred said in an effort to lighten the mood. "I mean, she's looking at him the way…" He trailed off.

"The way I look at Harry?" Ginny suggested. A few weeks ago, that comment would have had covered her face with the stereotypical Weasley blush. Just then she said it in such a blasé manner that the casual listener wouldn't have suspected that she was carrying a torch for the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Yeah," Fred replied.

Their attempt at banter keeled over. 

Pixie gave up on Crookshanks and jumped into Ginny's lap.

"Fudge can't make him miss school!" Ron burst out. "He needs to finish!"

"That's what Dumbledore's been saying," Fred pointed out. "He and Dad and McGonagall and even Amos Diggory have been after the Council to bring Harry back to Hogwarts."

"It's not fair!" Ginny exclaimed, as if for the first time.

"But it's _legal_," growled George. "They had the Dursleys' signatures and everything."

Ron used a word that would have been worth three weeks' detention.

"It's not entirely the Dursleys' fault, Ron," Ginny said, more for the sake of saying something than because she wanted to defend _those __idiots. "Mr. Granger said he might have been fooled into signing if he had been told that Hermione's safety depended on it."_

"Maybe," Ron said, unconvinced. "But the Grangers would have at least tried to get Hermione back when they found out the truth. They wouldn't have abandoned her."

"Yeah," Ginny said.

The door to the compartment slid open. "Aww, what's the matter, Weaselette? Lose your Potty boyfriend?" a familiar mocking drawl.

"Wow, you are so original, Ferret-face," Ron snarled at Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy smoothed back his fair hair and smirked. "You have no room to talk, Weasel. You've never had an original thought in your life."

"Yeah, how about if I shove your ugly head down the toilet?" gritted Ron as he started to his feet.

The twins grabbed him in a rare display of common sense.

"Sorry, Ron, that's not original," Fred said. "The midwife probably said the same thing when she first saw him."

Crabbe tugged on Malfoy's sleeve, but Malfoy shrugged him off.

"You think you're such hot stuff?" he challenged. "Maybe you need to be put in your place!"

"Like how you did last summer?" George asked ironically. He studied Malfoy's face critically. "You really looked better when you were covered with hex marks."

"Shut it, you… Crabbe! Stop that!"

"Looks like your bodyguards want out while they are still able to walk," Ron snickered. "Maybe you should invest in some guards with some guts."

Malfoy shrugged Crabbe's hand off. "We'll see who has guts this year, Weasley," he said. "See how brave you are when the Dark Lord finds where Fudge is hiding your precious little Scar-head."

 He turned to leave, then stopped abruptly and spoke in furious tones. "I-_HATE-you."_

Hermione, at last, Ginny thought.

However, it wasn't Hermione's voice that answered mockingly, "I-_KNOW_-that."

It was, however, a blessedly familiar voice. Ron leaped to his feet and shoved the Weird Brothers the rest of the way out of the compartment. 

Malfoy and his goons-in-training exited the car with as much dignity as they could muster. Ron paid no attention to them; he was focused on the green eyes, messy black hair and lop-sided grin of the slightly built teen in front of him.

"So, where the bloody hell have you been?" Ron demanded.

"That about sums it up," Harry Potter replied. "Can I sit down? It's been a nasty August."

Ron yanked Harry inside by the lapel of his ratty grey robe. Vaguely, he wondered if Harry had raided Lupin's wardrobe. 

Ginny was surprised that the paint didn't start peeling from the walls due to the vehemence of Ron's diatribe. Harry didn't look at all put out. He obviously realized that they had spent a month worrying over him and that Ron needed to vent.

Ron finished with a bellowed, "Now, SIT!" and threw him at the seat next to Ginny. 

Instinctively, Harry tried to catch himself and wound up sprawled across both seats, right across Ginny's lap.

"Hi," Ginny said composedly, like she was used boys falling all over her.

Harry jerked around. "Sorry," he muttered. He tried to get up, but couldn't seem to catch his balance. Ron had his suspicions about that, even then. Harry looked a little too comfortable in Ginny's lap.

The twins took a hand… literally. Each grabbed one of Harry's hands and hauled him out of his seat… Ginny's lap… whatever.

"Smashing to see you, old boy," George said, as if he was being funny. "Isn't that right, Ginny?"

"He's not heavy enough to be smashing," Ginny said dryly. She was remarkably blush free and Ron wondered if his plan of fixing her up with Harry was going to work. Maybe she wasn't interested any more? That might explain her calm acceptance of Percy's idiotic backing of Fudge.

"Thanks," Harry said to the twins. He sat down next to Ginny and gave her an apologetic smile. 

Ginny handed him Hedwig's cage. 

"Hedwig?" Harry asked anxiously. 

Hedwig's head popped out from under her wing and Harry reached into the cage to stroke her. "How are you doing old girl?" he asked. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I didn't want to be."

Hedwig nibbled on his fingers. She felt thinner than she should be.

"Has she been eating?" One of his worst fears was that Hedwig might pine away for him.

"She's doing as well as can be expected," Ron said. "Ginny has been looking after her. Hagrid dropped by a few times with some owl tonic."

"Thank you," Harry sighed.

Ginny didn't blush; she was too busy worrying. "What happened to your glasses?" she asked. She handed Harry an owl treat.

"Dunno," Harry sighed. He fed Hedwig, and then rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I haven't been able see properly since I was nabbed."

Ron felt guilty about tossing him around like a Quaffle.

"I don't suppose any of you knows where my gear is," Harry added.

"Dumbledore has it," Ron told him. "We took your school trunk and your mum's trunk to The Burrow after Fudge snatched you. We kept hoping that you'd be able to come. We even got all your school supplies when we went to Diagon Alley."

"Wonderful, I can go to the welcoming feast in my pyjamas," sighed Harry. 

That was the first time that Ron took note of what Harry was wearing under his grey robe. He had thought those Snitch pyjamas were cool, but Ron didn't think he should be running around in them. 

"Ginny, why don't you go get Hermione while we get something for Harry to wear?" George said.

"Um, right," Ginny said. She scuttled up the train. Now that she was safely away from her brothers, she could blush as much as she liked. Oh, wait until she told Hermione that Harry had sat in her lap!

"There's nothing to do for it but to go around and cadge the other Gryffindors for clothing," Ron said. "There's no way he can wear my clothing, I'm a good head and a half taller than he is. Fred and George are too broad. He could probably wear Hermione's robes. They're about the same build," Ron paused, but no jeers came. "Their about the same height and weight, that is, but Hermione isn't here to offer."

All of the fifth-year boys were bigger than Harry. Fortunately for Harry, Colin Creevy had caught him up in size. Even better was when Colin offered an unopened package of underwear. 

Harry sighed with relief. "Thanks," he said, making a mental note to be nicer to the Creevy brothers this year.

They couldn't find shoes for him. Colin didn't have an extra set of shoes with him. "I must have left them at home," he said in dismay.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "Thanks for everything, Colin." 

"It's a good thing that Colin doesn't have anything resembling self-consciousness," Ron said after they got back to their compartment. "I would have never thought to offer poor ickle Harry-kins…"

Harry threw the ratty grey robe at him to shut him up. He slid out of the now ragged pyjamas and was tempted to throw them out the window. He never wanted to see those things again, even if he wound up sleeping in his clothes. 

"I'll take those," George said, gathering up the discarded clothes.

Harry assumed that George would destroy them somehow.

"Pity you're too dainty to wear some of our shoes," Ron said, as Harry finished tugging on his new underwear and borrowed clothing.

Harry rolled his eyes. 

Good News: 

It's easy enough to find someone on a train. There are only two directions to look in. It didn't take Ginny long to find Hermione. 

Hermione took one look at Ginny's beaming face and her eyes went wide. "He's here!?"

Ginny nodded her head so fast that her hair flew in her face and she had to dig her way free.

"How on earth did he get himself on the train?" Hermione demanded.

Ginny shrugged. "He hasn't said, yet," she said.

"Typical," Hermione sighed. 

"Maybe the five of us can drag it out of him," Ginny said without much conviction. 

"Come on," Hermione said eagerly.

"No rush," Ginny said. "Harry needs to get changed."

"Changed into what?" Hermione said. "His trunk isn't here."

"Changed into whatever they can beg or borrow off our fellow Gryffindors," Ginny said.

Fred was standing guard at the door. "Hello, ladies, do you have a reservation?"

"Oh, shut it," Ginny said.

"I thought you would want me to open it," Fred said. He knocked on the door. "All decent in there?" 

"Yeah," Ron called. "They can come in."

"Where's Harry?" Hermione demanded, bursting into the compartment. 

Ron and George moved back so that Hermione could see Harry.

Her eyes widened and the next thing Harry knew, her arms were around him and she was kissing him… on the mouth.

"Mrph?" Harry felt like his eyes were going to pop from his head. When Hermione stepped back, looking rather pink, Harry could tell that he wasn't the only one who was disconcerted. 

Ron stopped feeling guilty about tossing Harry around like a Quaffle. 

"Harry!" Hermione said. "How good to see you!" Hermione smoothed down the front of her robes self-consciously.

"Erm, thanks," Harry managed. He touched his bottom lip gingerly.

"Hermione? We've been trying to find some shoes to fit Harry," Ginny said calmly, as if Hermione snogging Harry was an everyday occurrence.

Hermione looked down at Harry's bare feet. "Erm, maybe my boots will fit," she said. "They're a bit too big for me. I was going to shrink them when I got to Hogwarts." She gave him a sunny smile. "Consider yourself lucky that I don't buy stylish shoes like Lavender and Parvati."

"I'd have to go barefoot," Harry agreed. He'd seen enough of their shoes to know what Hermione meant by 'stylish.'

Hermione's boots were too small, but not by much. Hermione said. "Here I'll just enlarge them a bit… how do they feel?"

Harry tried them on and took a few steps. "They'll do," he said. "Thanks."

"Here are some socks that should fit," Ginny added, pulling some socks out of her trunk. They were bright blue with the letter 'F' stitched into the toes in yellow thread.

"Hey, those are _my_ socks!" Fred sputtered, looking at the initial on the toes. "How'd they get into your trunk?"

Ginny just smiled sweetly at him. "Maybe the sock fairy put them into my trunk when I wasn't looking."

Fred had some interesting comments to make on the subject of sock fairies.

Harry ignored this exchange as he pulled the socks and boots on. They could hear the lunch cart rattling down the corridor. He made a face. "I think I left my money in my other robes," he said.

"Lunch is on me," Hermione said grandly. She paid for lunch, ignoring the Weasleys protests. "Mum and Dad gave me some extra spending money this year." She brushed the front of her robes self-consciously. The silver badge on her robes sparkled with her movements.

Harry had to concentrate on not wolfing everything down, but he did drink so much pumpkin juice that Fred had to go get another round. "Thanks, Hermione," Harry said. "I see they made you a Prefect," he added when he could stop eating long enough to speak. "You certainly earned it."

Hermione turned pink. Ron thought that looked adorable on her. He wished the others would disappear so he could tell her that. No, wait; he didn't want Harry to disappear again. He'd settle for Harry going to sleep while his siblings disappeared.

Of course, all that drinking had a predictable result on Harry.

Ron accompanied Harry to the loo, claiming he had to use it as well. Harry was grateful for the company. He suspected that Ron had come along to keep an eye on him, and he was grateful for that, too. He didn't want to disappear again.

There was no way Ron was going to let Harry out of his sight until they were safely at Hogwarts. Maybe not even then. In spite of what Hermione thought, he did read, and some of those stories… too many of those stories… had wizards disappearing, then reappearing only to disappear again. 

He wasn't jealous because Hermione had kissed Harry. After all, she'd been worried about him, too. The kiss hadn't meant anything to either of them. Nothing romantic, anyway. If he kept telling himself that, he might actually start to believe it. He'd get there faster if Harry didn't keep touching his mouth as if it were still tingling. 

"Something wrong with your mouth, Harry?" Ron asked casually.

"I think I split my lip," Harry replied absently.

"Oh," Ron said, surprised that Harry actually had an acceptable answer for that. Ron believed him, of course. He didn't want a repeat of last year's stupid row. Ron would believe Harry, that was all there was to it. Moreover, he was going to keep telling himself that until it worked.

When they got back, they found that Fred had somehow secured a jug of pumpkin juice and some more food. Enough for all of them for the rest of the trip.

"I just used my boyish charm on her," Fred said loftily when asked about the jug.

"You told her it was for Harry," Ginny translated.

"Okay, I used _Harry's_ boyish charm on her," Fred said with no sign of embarrassment.

Ron and Hermione looked to see if Harry had a reaction to this, but he was much too interested in the pumpkin pasties that Fred had given him to pay much attention to what was being said.

"Harry, how did you get on board? We checked all the cars," Hermione said.

"And Mum and Dad were keeping an eye out for you," Ron added. "They'd have told us if you'd arrived at the last moment."

"I was in the baggage compartment," Harry said. He had a coughing fit and had to cover his mouth before he sprayed everybody with food.

Hermione had a handkerchief ready when he was finished. 

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked.

"Not really," Harry coughed into Hermione's handkerchief. "I spent the first part of summer imprisoned, the second part sick and the third part sick _and_ imprisoned."

"You were sick? Didn't Fudge get a doctor for you?" Hermione asked.

"I think it was the stench that made me feel sick. That cell smelled of vomit and urine and those orange spiky plants in Greenhouse Two," Harry muttered.  "Fudge brought in some prison doctor who gave me some cough potion. He wanted to have me moved to the prison infirmary, but Fudge wouldn't let him. Thought it wasn't secure enough." Harry finished off with a cough.

"I see," Hermione said. Her forehead puckered up worriedly. "Harry…"

"Hermione, can we just not talk about it just now? I don't feel good. Dumbledore's going to want a full report and I don't want to go over this twice." 

"Oh, sorry," Hermione said, somewhat subdued.

"Thanks," Harry sighed and leaned back in his seat. He was asleep within moments.

Ginny studied his profile. His cheekbones stood out prominently, and his face was pasty. He looked like he hadn't eaten properly in months. She felt a surge of hatred for Fudge. This was all his fault. His blindness had cost Harry a month of her Mum's cooking and sunshine and good times. All because Fudge was afraid of doing something socially unacceptable. He was afraid to face the truth.

"Guess we're going to have to wait to find out what happened," sighed George.

"And we'd better be included in this," Fred warned Ron and Hermione.

"Amen," Ginny added.

"Deal," Ron said. "There are a lot of things I think you should be included in, but it's not my decision."

"We'll talk to Dumbledore as soon as we can," Hermione added.

"Speaking of talking to Dumbledore, is there any way to send him an owl about Harry?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "There's a new rule. _Nobody is allowed to send owls from the train. It's supposedly for the owls' safety, but I think they're worried about…" she stopped. It wasn't as if the Hogwarts Express was a secret. What could the Death Eaters learn from the students? "I'm not sure what they're worried about. It's got to be about You-Know-Who, though."_

"We'll find out soon enough," Ron said gloomily. He looked at the sleeping Harry. He was at just the right angle to notice that there was a cut on Harry's lower lip. "Maybe even too soon," he added.

The Welcoming Feast

Harry woke up half an hour or so before the train arrived at Hogsmeade station. He and Hermione fiddled around in an attempt to make Harry some temporary spectacles, but nothing they tried worked.

"Really, Hermione," Ginny said comfortingly. "Even _you can't be expected to learn optometry in twenty minutes without so much as an instruction manual."_

"I suppose not," Hermione said. "Sorry, Harry."

"Not your fault," Harry said absently. His attention was on the outside of the train and he rushed out the door as soon as the train had stopped moving.

"What's your hurry?" Ron complained as he chased after him. It didn't take him long to work out who Harry had gone to see. Hagrid was hard to miss, even with bad eyes.

"Harry! Yeh made it!" Hagrid's voice boomed out cheerfully. He engulfed Harry in a bear hug and seemed more than a little reluctant to release him.

"Maybe we should have kept his presence quiet," Hermione murmured.

"You're kidding," George said. "Malfoy saw him, so all of Slytherin must know that he's here."

"Ah, good point," Hermione said. She went with Ron to extract Harry from Hagrid's embrace and to assure the gamekeeper that they would _not_ let Harry out of their sight until they got to Hogwarts.

The trip up to the castle was without incident, until they entered the Great Hall. Fred and George, who were in the lead, stopped in their tracks with cries of dismay. Ron, who could see over their heads, stopped and gaped at the head table.

Ginny, Hermione and Harry had to shove their way past the knot of Weasley boys so they could see what was wrong. Ginny's eyes almost popped out of her head.

Harry's eyesight wasn't so poor that he couldn't see the head table and the flaming red hair of the occupant between Flitwick and Snape. Hermione looked at the head table and then at Harry. Then they had to lean on each other to keep from falling to the floor, they were laughing that hard.

"Bill?" Ginny said uncertainly. "What's _he doing here?"_

"He must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Ron said delightedly.

"We're doomed," George moaned.

"Huh? Why?" Hermione said. "I thought you'd be _glad to see your brother."_

"He knows _all_ our tricks," George explained.

"He _taught_ them to us," Fred said gloomily. "It's not going to be easy to get around him this year."

"I bet Mum will have a heart attack when she sees that he still has the pony tail and the earring," Ginny observed. She shoved her brothers into moving out of the doorway.

"I think Snape may have a heart attack now," Ron said dreamily as he found a seat. 

Snape looked as though he'd been sucking sour lemons all day.

Hermione and Harry, still sniggering maniacally, managed to get to the table and sit down on either side of Ron.

Ginny quickly snaked into the seat on Harry's other side.

The twins were still too shocked to seize the opportunity to tease Ginny about her obvious Harry crushing.

Bill looked down at Gryffindor table and grinned at his siblings. He raised his goblet to them. Ron and Ginny returned the salute.

The twins saluted, but not with their goblets. 

Bill's eyebrows went up, but before he could make any response to the twins' rude gestures, he met Harry's eyes.

Harry raised his goblet, but Bill almost dropped his in his attempt to get McGonagall's attention.

"Hagrid must not have had time to tell anybody," Hermione observed.

"Guess not," Ron agreed.

Bill caught Flitwick's eye and gestured toward Harry. Flitwick looked in the indicated direction and his eyes widened and he plucked at McGonagall's sleeve.

Snape looked at the same time Flitwick. He saw Harry and _very carefully put his goblet back on the table._

Harry was disappointed that Snape didn't have more of a reaction. However, McGonagall's reaction made up for Snape's deadpan.

McGonagall gave Flitwick a stern look and frowned when Flitwick pointed to the Gryffindor table. When she looked, Harry stood up and raised his goblet to her. McGonagall's eyes went wide and she spilled her red wine all over Dumbledore's saffron yellow robes and silvery beard.

Dumbledore gave her an inquiring look over the top of his half-moon spectacles. When he realized that his deputy had yet to notice the fate of her wine, he looked in the direction of her gaze. When he saw Harry, fifty years dropped from his face. 

He saluted Harry with his goblet. Then he leaned over and said something to McGonagall that made her stare down at her empty wine goblet in horror. Harry never expected to see McGonagall blush, but her face turned a nice shade of burgundy.

"Never thought I'd see McGonagall lose it like that," Fred said dreamily.

"No two ways about it, Harry," George said. "You're _definitely on the 'A' list as far as Weasley Wheezes parties go."_

"You mean he wasn't already?" Ron asked ironically.

They sat as patiently as possible through the Sorting Hat's song and through all the Sorting. After the Sorting was over, Dumbledore stood up. "It gives me great pleasure to welcome you all back to school this year. Unfortunately, there may be dark times ahead of us. As you may know, last year, the Tri-Wizard Tournament was corrupted. Two students were kidnapped and one, Cedric Diggory, was murdered. I would like to ask for a moment of silence in his honor."

The Great Hall went quiet, except for a few sniffles from the Hufflepuff table.

Harry looked over at the Ravenclaw table. Cho Chang sat straight-backed and dry eyed. She met his gaze, but he could not decipher her expression. He sighed. At some point he was going to have to talk to her. She deserved to know what had happened that night.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said. "Cedric Diggory was a good person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a boy who loved Quidditch and dancing and enjoying his life. This year, to honor his love of life, we shall be having a special fancy dress party for Halloween. All years are free to attend. There will also be a Yule ball the day before the Christmas break."

A sudden murmuring broke out.

"Thank you for your kind attention, now, to business… food!"

The platters filled themselves, and after a while, feast became as boisterous as ever. Harry managed not to stuff himself sick by saving some room for a treacle tart.

Even as he ate his pudding, Harry knew that he'd have to face the music sooner or later. He opted for sooner, while he could still play the "I'm sick and was unjustly imprisoned" card. After the welcoming feast, he headed up to the Head Table, where Dumbledore, McGonagall and Bill Weasley were waiting. Ron and Hermione followed automatically.

Ginny watched them leave and sighed to herself. Then she turned and headed up to Gryffindor Tower with Neville and Colin Creevy.

Confessions of an Animagus (1):

Ron and Hermione looked around the office, wide-eyed. While the others were taking in the room, Harry went over to Fawkes' stand to greet the phoenix. 

"Good evening," Professor Dumbledore said. "There is a lot of information that we need to discuss tonight, so, please, take a seat." 

Ron and Hermione sat down on a sofa near the fire. Harry remained standing next to Fawkes. He looked around at everybody. There were several familiar faces besides Dumbledore. Prof. McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Bill Weasley were all present. However, there was no Remus Lupin and no Sirius, in any form.

"Harry, you have no idea how glad I am to see you," Dumbledore said quietly.

Startled by Dumbledore's weary tone, Harry studied the headmaster's face uneasily. "I sense a 'but' in there," he said.

Dumbledore smiled faintly, but the twinkle was missing from his eye. "I am curious as to how you got on the train," he said.

Harry took a deep breath. He'd been expecting this, after all. "I got to the station early. The baggage compartment was open, so I went inside." He decided that this needed some elaboration. "I was hoping to find my school trunk." He sighed. "I guess I fell asleep."

Dumbledore frowned at him. "I'm surprised the train crew didn't see you in there." He studied Harry over the top of his half moon spectacles. 

"Well… actually, I suppose they did see me," Harry said. "I think they moved me to get the trunks in. I woke up on a bench on the platform."

"They didn't tell anybody you were there," Dumbledore said, frowning.

"Well, they kind of, well, they didn't realize who I was." Harry made a face. "Or even what I was."

Hermione scowled. "You transfigured yourself, didn't you?" she didn't wait for an answer. "Harry! How could you? You _know that's dangerous!"_

"I didn't think I had much choice!" Harry retorted. "I'm getting bloody sick and tired of being kidnapped! I wanted to hide, but I didn't want to miss the train. Besides, I can see better as a cat." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't suppose anybody has any idea what's become of my glasses?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Fudge has been remarkably uncommunicative lately. We do have your gear."

"You're an Animagus, then?" McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded.

There was a noticeable pause in the conversation. Dumbledore's left eyebrow went up and his gaze sharpened. McGonagall's lips thinned. Bill crossed his arms across his chest and made a point of waiting patiently.

"I can change into an Abyssinian cat," Harry elaborated, suddenly realizing what they were waiting for.

Dumbledore sighed. "That's a very difficult spell," he said. "I presume you've been studying this since you found out that your father was an Animagus?"

"No," Hermione said. "He found the _Animagus Survival Guide in a trunk that belonged to his mother. It was written by the Marauders."_

Dumbledore's right eyebrow joined the left in vertical ascension. "I see." His gaze returned to Harry's face. "That's still quite an impressive feat, Mr. Potter."

"Not really," Harry said. "Nicely actually stuck the ability… the blueprint, I think she called it… right into my brain." 

Hermione gave Ron a stern look. 

"Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, she did it to me, too," Ron admitted. 

"Ron!" Bill cried. "Are you _insane?"_

"Well, it's not like I _knew_ she was going to do anything!" Ron said defensively. "I just wanted to know what my Animagus animal was going to be! I thought she was going to show me a picture and next thing I knew, I was an owl!"

"When did you decide to become an Animagus?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I'm not sure," Ron said. "We were discussing it while Harry was in the hospital and it seemed like a brilliant thing to do. I mean, Animagi have got to be the best…" He trailed off, suddenly realizing it looked like he was trying to butter up McGonagall.

"I see," McGonagall said sternly. However, she wasn't _quite as thin-lipped as before._

"Anyway," Harry continued. "I know we agreed that we should tell Dumbledore, but I wish you had let me speak for myself, Hermione."

"Sorry," Hermione said meekly.

Actually, Harry was almost glad that she had spoken up. He had known that he would have to tell Dumbledore about Nicely. However, he was reluctant to bring up Sirius' role in this.  Fortunately, he'd never had a chance to tell Ron and Hermione where Nicely had come from. He wouldn't have been able to lie directly to Dumbledore and now he didn't have to.

He _would_ tell Dumbledore, eventually. Harry just wanted to talk to Sirius beforehand.

"Yes, I am an Animagus. Most of what I learned came from _The Animagus Survival Guide. There was also some stuff in the Transfiguration texts that we'd been studying." Harry sighed. "Nicely put a big blob of information about Animal Transfiguration into my brain and I haven't had anything to do for the past three weeks than study it."_

"That was very dangerous, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

"I know," Harry said. "It just seemed more dangerous to leave that bit of information lying around in my brain with no real restraints over it."

"He has a point, Albus," McGonagall said. "Now that the two of them have had this… blueprint… planted in their brains, something will have to be done about it." She gave them a beady glare. "And, as I am the only fully qualified and legally registered Animagus in sight, I guess it will be up to me."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I will leave matters in your hands, then." 

The glance that Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged reminded Hermione of some of the looks her parents exchanged. Not the loving kind, the ones that seemed to pass secret information. She was relieved that Harry and Ron would get some proper training. She didn't want to see them in trouble, but a little discipline wouldn't do them any harm.

Harry sighed and leaned against the mantle. Things could have been worse, he supposed. He didn't expect that the Animagus lessons would be much fun, but it would definitely be worth it. He'd have to remember to owl Sirius… No, he wasn't allowed to send owls to Sirius.

Dumbledore cocked his head and looked at Hermione. "And what of yourself, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her bushy head. "I don't believe that _The Animagus Survival Guide put anything in my head."_

"Nicely tried to, though," Ron said. "But Hermione stared her down and set her on fire."

"Well, now, Miss Granger, how did you accomplish that?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted. "I think the book tried to put a blueprint in my mind, but I blocked it."

"And Nicely burst into flame out of frustration?" Ron asked. "You know, the way that the Sphinx threw herself off a cliff when Oedipus answered her question."

Hermione eyed him narrowly. "You've been reading behind my back," she accused.

Ron grinned at her.

There was a muffled snort of laughter from Moody and Harry jerked out of the half-doze that he'd fallen into. He'd almost forgotten that the old Auror was there. That would have cost him points last year. He sighed and wished they could just go to bed. He wondered if he would have to borrow pyjamas or if his trunk was nearby. 

"What are you doing here, Professor Moody?" Hermione asked. "Are you going to be teaching a class?"

"Nah," Moody said. "I'm retired. I'll be taking it easy in my nice, peaceful retirement."

"And you've decided to settle down in nice, peaceful Hogsmeade, have you?" Ron asked.

Moody's face twisted in a smile. "Full marks, Mr. Weasley." He sighed. "Pity I never did have you for a class."

"I dunno," Ron said. "Would you have transfigured Malfoy into the incredible bouncing ferret?"

"Let me think about that," Moody said, rubbing his chin. 

"Alastor!" McGonagall said in indignation.

Everyone seemed to relax a bit at Moody's comments. Harry wondered about Moody's tone. It didn't seem like him to make jokes. However, he'd never spoken with the real Alastor Moody. He leaned his head against his arm and thought that it was too warm to keep standing next to the fire. He didn't move, however. 

"So, Ron, what kind of owl are you?" Bill wanted to know.

"A long-eared owl," Ron said proudly.

"Cool," Bill said. He caught McGonagall's eye. "In an incredibly stupid and dangerous way, of course."

"Says the man who walks into cursed tombs for a living," Ron sniped back. However, his chest puffed out at having impressed his older brother. "So, why'd you become the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher? Isn't that a bit _tame_ for you?" he asked. "And why didn't anybody tell us?"

"I wanted somebody who was in the Order to take the position," Dumbledore said. "I have a feeling that I'm going to need all the allies that I can get nearby."

"We didn't tell you because it was supposed to be a surprise," Bill explained patiently. "The official unofficial rumor is that I'm here to keep the twins in line. That's enough risk for any sane wizard." 

Bill grinned and Hermione felt her pulse flutter. "Oh, don't even start that. He's too old and he's the wrong Weasley," she told herself. She looked over at Ron, but he didn't seem to have noticed anything.

"Sane wizard? Then what does that have to do with you?" Ron said. "Speaking of the twins," he continued before Bill could answer. "We think that Fred and George should be included in the Order."

"Ginny and Neville as well," Hermione spoke up.

"Neville?" Ron demanded. "Why Neville?"

"He did help save Harry's life," Hermione pointed out.

"But only from…" Ron stopped when he realized that he didn't know if Moody and McGonagall knew about Sirius.

"Sirius Black," McGonagall finished for him. "Yes, I know whose side he's on." McGonagall said. "Albus has filled the Order in on what happened after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. However, neither Longbottom nor your sister realized that Black was trying to protect Harry. Their courage deserves recognition."

"You're not going to get my sister involved in this!" Bill protested. "She's just a kid!"

"She's already been involved in this!" Ron said hotly. "Or hasn't anybody filled you in on the Chamber of Secrets?"

"That's different!" Bill exclaimed. "She was just a randomly chosen victim. It could have been anybody!"

"Randomly chosen my elbow!" Ron said. "She was picked, deliberately!"

Bill gaped. "You can't mean that!"

"Yes, I can," Ron said in icy tones. "Didn't anybody tell you? Tom Riddle's diary was slipped into her Hogwarts' gear because she's Arthur Weasley's daughter."

Bill turned green. "Who-would-do-that?" he croaked.

"I think it might be best for Mr. Potter to explain…" Dumbledore trailed off. "Harry?" He stood abruptly.

Everyone looked at Harry when Dumbledore spoke. 

Noticing that Harry was literally asleep on his feet and in danger of falling into the fire, Ron leaped up and grabbed the smaller boy. He and Bill carried Harry over to the sofa.

Harry stirred and sighed, but did not awaken.

"He's burning up," Ron said, putting his hand on Harry's forehead. "Why doesn't he ever _say_ anything?"

Dumbledore studied Harry's limp form with a troubled frown. "I'm afraid that Mr. Potter is too accustomed to keeping his own counsel," he said. "This is a habit that we will have to cure him of, for all our sakes."

Author's Notes:

Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and put me on their favorites list!

The good news, the story is finished. The bad news is that, in the interest of speed, the Review Responses will be postponed until the final chapter.

Some quick responses:

Nicely called Sirius.

Sirius did not know that Ginny, Neville and Pansy were in the room. He kept Opal talking so he could get close enough to grab Harry.

Happy Reading!


	22. Recovering From Summer

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Chapter 22: Recovering From Summer

The Hospital Wing:

Harry was burning again. He was tired of this. He wanted to wake up, but he couldn't quite pull himself out of the quagmire. He drifted in and out, occasionally hearing voices. He thought he heard Ron and Hermione talking about classes. Had he missed class? Was he going to get into trouble for that?

He thought he heard Ginny crying, or was that Hermione? Could it be both?  

Once he dreamt that Snape and McGonagall were arguing.

_"I really think it inappropriate for you to choose the Granger girl as a prefect, considering her past record," Snape snarled._

_"What exactly do you mean by that?" McGonagall demanded._

_"She did get a detention severe enough to warrant being sent into the Forbidden Forest," Snape pointed out._

_"A detention that was shared by your new prefect, Draco Malfoy," McGonagall countered._

_"That's entirely different. Mr. Malfoy was merely trying to catch Potter and his gang in their wrong-doing."_

_"I see," McGonagall said. "And what were Potter and his 'gang' as you call them, trying to do?"_

_"That is immaterial," sneered Snape._

_"Ah, so Slytherins should be judged by the purity of their intentions, while everybody else should be judged by their actions? And while we're on the subject of intentions, would you mind explaining to me why you never punished Mr. Malfoy for slandering Mr. Potter to that reporter, Rita Skeeter?"_

_"He thought he was speaking the truth!"_

_"Yet he must have known that Miss Skeeter was banned from the grounds," McGonagall went on. "Plus there is the matter of Mr. Malfoy trying to kill Mr. Potter."_

_"I don't know what you're talking about," sneered Snape._

_"The time when Mr. Malfoy and his cronies dressed up as Dementors and tried to make Mr. Potter fall from his broomstick during the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game."_

_"He was just playing a prank," protested Snape._

_"I see. So, a prank that almost gets _you_ killed is cause for a lifelong vendetta against the son of the man who saved you. However, a prank against _Potter_ is merely something to be brushed under the carpet and forgotten."_

_"I should have known better than to expect a Gryffindor to be impartial," growled Snape._

_"You are the one with double standards here, Severus Snape. And if you ever care to accuse me of playing favorites again, you had better have your second chosen. Do I make myself clear?"_

_"Abundantly so."_

_"Good, oh, and _Mr_. Snape? Fifteen  points from Slytherin for your cheek." _

Eventually Harry roused enough to take in his surroundings. He was in the Hospital Wing. Harry had had enough of hospitals, thank you very much. As soon as his fever subsided, he was petitioning to get out. 

"Why can't you just give me some Pepper-up Potion and let me go?" he asked Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, for the fifth or sixth time that day. He blinked at her from behind his glasses. Arthur Weasley had managed to retrieve them from Fudge and he'd owled them to Harry.

"Because I can't," Madam Pomfrey said, exasperated. "I've told you before, Potter. Pepper-up juice and Wizard's Bane are not a happy mixture. Trust me on this. You'll just have to fight off this pneumonia the old fashioned way."

"I don't understand," Seamus Finnigan, one of Harry's dormitory mates, asked after Madam Pomfrey had left. "Who would give you Wizard's Bane?"

"What is Wizard's Bane?" Dean Thomas wanted to know.

"A question on the Herbology O.W.L.," Neville said. "It impedes a wizard's ability to perform magic. It does not have a noticeable effect on witches."

"It's that orange spiky plant in Greenhouse Two," Hermione explained. "It's used to concoct the Power Drain Potion."

"Power Drain potion is used in Sleepy Spindles," Ron put in. "It's one of the reasons Sleepy Spindles work against things like Hunting Cloaks and Giant Chessmen. It's not an actual sleeping draught, it drains a wizard's power."

"So the wizard isn't actually put to sleep for a century?" Harry rasped.

"Well, the 'sleep for a century' business is a _slight exaggeration," Ginny said. "At least, according to _The_ __Potions O.W.L. Preparation Guide it is."_

"Wait, if it doesn't affect witches, then why did Sleeping Beauty fall asleep?" Dean asked.

"That's a Muggle story, Dean," Ginny said. "It's not exactly accurate."

Seamus frowned. "So who gave this stuff to Harry, and why?"

"It was in my cell," Harry explained. "Apparently, they paint the room with the stuff to keep their prisoners from even attempting wandless magic. I guess it really affected me."

"It's not supposed to be used on children," Olivia Guppy said. She had come over to Harry's bed with a tray of pumpkin juice for his visitors and a goblet of Harry's medicine.

Harry made a face, but drank the foul-tasting concoction. 

"But you were supposed to be in protective custody!" Neville blurted. "Why were they treating you like a _criminal_?"

"According to Fudge, I am one," Harry said darkly. "I'm deranged, you know."

Seamus shrugged. "Well, yes, we've known that for ages," he said. "Hardly anything to get excited about now!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fudge is the deranged one," she grumbled. "I hope he gets kicked out of office."

"Be careful what you wish for," Neville warned. "It's possible to get somebody worse than Fudge in office." 

Their gloomy thoughts were interrupted by Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. There was a chorus of greetings for the Gryffindor house ghost.

"Good day," Sir Nicholas said genially. "I'm so sorry to see that you are ill, Mr. Potter. I have something here that might cheer you up a bit." He waved what appeared to be a letter. "As you may recall, we ghosts have our own postal system."

Harry's pulse picked up as he remembered that Sir Nicholas had written to the Headless Hunt several times. "Is that from my grandfather?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed," Sir Nicholas replied. "I regret that you can't have a little more privacy for your correspondence."

The other students looked ready to leave. Harry invited them to stay. He doubted there would be anything too personal in the letter. He was right. It turned out to be an account of Tiberius' Sorting. Tiberius' wry account of the rumors that the First Years had been subjected to had the Gryffindors in stitches and thoughts of Fudge and Wizard's Bane faded from their minds.

The Prowlery

If Harry thought that being sick would let him off homework, he was soon disabused of that impression. Not only did Hermione faithfully bring him his coursework, she began dredging the library for more books on taking O.W.L.s.

"Obviously, there's a strategy to taking the things that we haven't learned yet," she said. "There's no other way to explain our poor performance on those tests. We _know_ the material."

"Maybe those are really questions from the N.E.W.T.s," Ron suggested. "Maybe when we take the actual O.W.L.s, we'll find them so easy, that we'll pass them with ease."

"Maybe," Hermione said. She shot Ron a sideways glance. "Shall we ask your brothers if that's how it works? Or shall we just buckle down and study?"

Ron hesitated. The idea of asking his brothers a possibly stupid and embarrassing question really wasn't a pleasant one.

"Good, let's study like our lives depend on it," Hermione said grimly. "I strongly suspect that they do."

"Somehow, I don't think that my getting a lot of O.W.L.s is going to impress Voldemort," Harry said.

"Look, you promise not to throw that name around with such… abandon… and I'll study with no complaining. Well, almost no complaining," Ron said.

"Oh, this should be fun," Harry said. "I'll do my best not to use that name just to see what your idea of 'almost no complaining' is."

It did actually turn out to be fun. The O.W.L. study sessions started out with Hermione, Ron, Harry and Neville. Soon the other Gryffindors joined in. Then Parvati brought her sister.

Padma starting bringing her Ravenclaw friends.

Justin Finch-Fletchly came to the Hospital Wing after he'd sprained his wrist during Hufflepuff's Quidditch tryouts. He wound up sitting in on a PROWL study session. His friends came up to visit him and wound up staying as well.

Madam Pomfrey complained about the noise, of course, but it was she who came up with the name for the unofficial study sessions. "This is a hospital wing, not a PROWLery!" she snapped when Seamus' banishing charm lesson turned into a pillow race.

From then on, the area of the Hospital Wing where the study sessions were taking place were known as the "Prowlery" and the Fifth-year students took to calling themselves the "Prowlers." (This amused Ron and Harry to no end as it reminded them of the 'Marauders.' Harry made sure to include this in his letter to Prof. Lupin.)

Giving in to the inevitable, Madam Pomfrey let them use one of the visitors' rooms for their Prowlery sessions.

"What visitors?" Harry asked.

"They're for the families of really sick students," Ron explained. "Mum and Bill stayed here last year, after, you know."

"The Third Task," Harry said. _Kill the spare flashed through his mind, but he shoved it out. "I don't think I ever thanked your mum and Bill for coming for that," he added suddenly._

"You didn't have too," Ron said. "Mum knew you needed her, so she came. Bill came along and got a job offer out of it, so he's paid off, too."

Harry raised an inky eyebrow. "Dumbledore knew even then that he'd need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Well, Moody said he was only going to be here for one year," Hermione pointed out. "Now, stop messing around, we have O.W.L.s to conquer."

It was easier, somehow, to study for the O.W.L.s when there were so many other people sitting around doing the same thing. Every problem somebody ran across, somebody else had either solved or was in the process of solving. After a while, it just seemed natural for the Ravenclaws to explain Arithmancy to the Gryffindors, or for the Gryffindors to demonstrate shielding charms to the Hufflepuffs, or for the Hufflepuffs show the Ravenclaws the difference between Muggle snapdragons and wizarding snapdragons. 

Even the teachers started dropping by. Bill Weasley was the first. "I'd been looking forward to having you in my class, Potter," he said. "You're not getting away from me that easily! You can learn how to break curses in here as easily as in the classroom." He looked around at the piles of books. "Maybe easier."

Hagrid came by with cages of animals for Harry to look at. Madam Pomfrey objected, but the first animal Hagrid brought by was Hedwig. "She's bin worryin' abou' him," Hagrid explained. "You don' wan' her ter get sick, do yeh?"

Poppy Pomfrey had become a nurse because she had a tender heart. She took one look at the obviously unhappy owl and couldn't deny her visitation rights.

She soon came to regret that as Hagrid started holding his fifth-year classes in the Prowlery. 

"It's easier than havin' ter teach the class twice," Hagrid pointed out. "Besides, I'm keeping the kids from gettin' sick by not havin' 'em wander around in th' rain."

Madam Pomfrey knew there had to be a logical counter to this. However, Professor Sprout decided that this was a good idea and asked if she could hold Harry's Herbology class in the Prowlery, too. "It'll be easier on everybody if Potter can keep up," she said. The addition of the plants made studying for the Herbology O.W.L. a lot easier. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Fifth-years had started congratulating Harry on his new O.W.L. strategy. Being sick and famous had its advantages.

Madam Pomfrey still argued against bringing animals to the Hospital Wing. However, when Dumbledore asked her to indulge Hagrid, the nurse knew she had no choice but to give in. She did insist that a House-elf be on hand full time to clean up any unfortunate messes.

Dobby was ecstatic at the assignment. He loved being near Harry and the Hospital Wing always sparkled. Except for the occasional bit of… fertilizer… that seemed to wind up on the floor just under Malfoy's expensive shoes. 

Madam Pomfrey, on the other hand, grew increasingly unhappy by with increasingly scary animals. The Hoopsnake wasn't too bad, in fact, it was rather amusing to see it turn into a hoop and roll around the room. 

The three-headed Runespoor was fascinating. Harry's translation of the constant quarrel between the three heads had the class in stitches. Even Malfoy cracked a smile in spite of his best efforts.

The furry Snow Snake was too aggressive for Pomfrey's taste. It tried to bite Lavender. Lavender shrieked and whacked it with her textbook. That taught the Snow Snake not to be so blatantly anti-social. It also taught Hagrid not to put Lavender so close to the snakes.

"Not to worry, ain't poisonous," Hagrid assured them.

The feathered Quetzalcoatl snake made Pomfrey nervous when it demonstrated that it only stayed in the cage because she currently felt like cooperating. Fortunately, Harry was able to convince it that a castle full of children wasn't safe to wander around in.

"Have you ever noticed how the lessons are all geared to old snake mouth, here?"  Malfoy sneered during one lesson.

"I'm choosin' animals that're small enough an' clean enough to bring inter the Hospital Wing," Hagrid growled. "If yeh want a bigger critter, I'll be happy ter let you go down an' feed th' Hippogriffs while we study snakes." The giant's beetle black eyes narrowed "They's 'specially fond o' ferret."

That shut Malfoy up, at least, when Hagrid was around. 

Harry couldn't deny that the parade of snakes was fascinating, though. Talking to them when the other students were in class helped keep him from getting too depressed about being in the Hospital Wing.

The baby Bookwyrm challenged the Care of Magical Animals class to an intellectual duel. Which had the Prowlers digging into the O.W.L. preparation books that were piled up in the PROWLery. 

The Prowlers, in turn, challenged the Bookwyrm to try its luck with one of the OWL preparation exams. The Bookwrym  wasn't able to pass, either. However, the excursion into O.W.L. preparation territory got some of the fifth-year Slytherins interested in joining the revision sessions.

"That's disgusting," Pansy Parkinson snarled after one lesson with the Gryffindors. "Associating with Mudbloods!"

"If you think that you can pass the O.W.L.s all by yourself, be my guest," Blaise Zabini replied.

The last snake was the last straw. At first it had looked like a normal, Muggle snake with an interesting pattern of brown and gold scales. The basic body color was gold, A series of brown and green irregular diamond shapes covered the back. It looked rather like a gold snake covered with a brown net.

"Is that's what they call a 'reticulated' pattern, Hagrid?" Hermione asked. She stooped to get a closer look at the snake. "It's not a Reticulated Python, is it?" 

The snake reared up, spread out bat-like wings and spat fire at Hermione.

Granted, the flame was only a flicker, no bigger than a spark of static electricity. However, it made Hermione jump back and made Lavender, Parvati and Pansy shriek in surprise. Pansy took a step back. Parvati stayed where she was. Lavender took a step forward and raised her book again.

"Easy, now," Hagrid said soothingly, both to Lavender and the snake. "This here is a Wyvern. It c'n be pretty fierce, but this'un's been raised aroun' people. It's real gentle like, when it ain't bein' startled."

Madam Pomfrey was fit to be tied. "Hagrid! Fire-breathing dragons are right out!"

"It's no' a dragon, it's a winged snake," Hagrid protested mildly.

"I don't care! It's going out and so are YOU! No more snakes! No more interestin' critters! All you are permitted to bring in here are books! And none of those biting books, either!"

Hagrid sighed. The _Monster Book of Monsters_ was a thing of the past, anyway. Having no choice, Hagrid assigned some written work. "I wan' you ter draw pictures to show the diff'nce between wizarding animals and Muggle ones. Fer instance, the diff'rnce betw'n a cat an' a Kneazle or a dog and a krup or a werewolf an' a reg'lar wolf. Yeh'll be needin' ter tell the diff'nce."

"Notice how his assignment requires very little reading on his part?" Malfoy sneered.

"'Cept for Mr. Malfoy, o'course," Hagrid added. "He's ter write four feet on how ter speak respectfully ter critters what c'n understand when they're bein' insulted." He shot Malfoy a glare. "Like Hippogriffs and perfessers and th' like."

The Gryffindors felt highly vindicated after that and Malfoy went around looking like he'd bitten into one of Bertie Bott's more disgusting flavours.

After class, Hagrid also had a long talk with Professor Sprout. So Pomfrey knew who to blame when the dumpy little witch came in for the Herbology lesson bringing a flat of roaring Dandy Lions and hissing Snap Dragons.

It took Dumbledore two hours to convince Madam Pomfrey to put Hagrid's vocal cords back into his throat. 

The First Animagus Test:

McGonagall didn't help settle Pomfrey's stomach any. One day towards the end of September, she came by after regular visiting hours with Ron in tow.

"It's for their detention," McGonagall told Madam Pomfrey before the matron could complain. 

If Madam Pomfrey had any questions about how Harry had managed to get detention when he'd spent the entire term to date in the Hospital Wing, she didn't voice them. After all, Potter and Weasley were well known for the talent for trouble.

"How long will this detention take?" she asked.

"As long as it takes to teach them a lesson," McGonagall said. She didn't explain that the lesson was Animagus Transfiguration, though.

Madam Pomfrey left them alone, muttering about how the Hospital Wing was supposed to be her domain, not Potter's. McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron with a thin smile. "Now, gentlemen, since you're so eager to become Animagi, I have a short test to see if you really understand what you're getting yourselves into.

Thirty minutes into the two hour test, Harry and Ron found themselves longing for the nice, relatively easy Transfiguration PROWL.

Hermione Turns Sixteen:

They held Hermione's birthday party in the Prowlery.

"Oh, honestly, Headmaster! They'll disturb my patients!"

"It seems to me as though most of the patients were on the guest list," Dumbledore replied with as straight a face as he could manage. He forbore to mention that there were only two patients at the time, Harry and Neville (who had managed to blow up a cauldron during his last Potions class.) The rest of the party consisted of all the Weasleys currently at Hogwarts, including Bill.

The party was rather subdued, especially compared to Harry's. Everybody spoke in quiet voices ad they ate cakes and drank pumpkin juice and watched Hermione open her presents.

Neville gave her some chocolate frogs. "Never know when they'll come in handy," he said with a grin.

"Maybe we should try that engorgement charm on them," Fred suggested. "That'll be enough chocolate to last for a while."

"I wouldn't," Harry warned. "That took _way too much energy out of me." He shook his head. "And I only stopped three of my attackers. Not a good return for my investment."_

Hermione quickly opened her next package to change the subject. Her parents sent her a camera. "Please take lots of pictures!" she read from the enclosed note. She made sure to take pictures of her party guests.

Ginny made another Knitten Kitten for her. This one was blue and gold.

"We need another name besides Mitten, for it," Harry said. "Something that rhymes with 'Knitten.'"

"And it must be fittin'," Ron added.

"I'll call it Britain," Hermione said.

"No fair, you used that rhyme last time," Ginny said. "Don't tell me you're quittin'!"

"Well, it's not like there are any rules against using the same rhyme," Hermione said. "At least, there aren't any _written."_

Everybody sniggered.

"I don't have anything for you," Harry said. "I haven't had time to get you anything…" He gave her a sly look. "… _appropriate."_

The Weasley twins grinned like maniacs. Hermione looked nervous. Bill raised an eyebrow, but nobody saw fit to enlighten him about how Hermione's fountain puzzle had soaked poor, sick Harry.

Bill resolved to get the information out of the twins later.

"I have something _appropriate_ for you," Ron said. He handed her a package that felt like a book. 

Hermione opened it and found it was a book. "Flower poems? How sweet, thank you, Ron!"

Harry and the twins made kissy noises.

"Open it and read one of the poems," Ron urged.

Hermione did. No sooner had she finished when a miniature garden sprang into existence.

"Oh! How wonderful!" Hermione jumped up and planted a kiss on Ron's cheek. "Thank you!"

The twins made gagging noises. Ginny shook her head and looked at Harry, only to find that Harry was looking at her. Reacting naturally, she turned brick red.

Fortunately, the twins were much too busy teasing Ron to notice this.

"I don't think this gift can quite match up, but you might find it interesting," Bill said, handing Hermione a package. "I gave one like it to Ginny a few years ago."

Hermione unwrapped it to find, _Curses Foiled Again: A Guide to Passing the Defense Against Dark Arts O.W.L." _

"I like that one," Ginny said demurely. "It is really quite helpful."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. "Is this how you passed that PROWL?"

Ginny grinned at her.

"Then I think it's time to get back to work," Hermione said. "I think we should revise for our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., since we have so many experts on hand."

"_Hermione_! It's your birthday!" Ron exclaimed. "You're supposed to be enjoying yourself!"

Hermione grinned at him. "I am."

"You are completely mental, you know that?" Ron protested.

The party broke up then as the twins beat a retreat in the face of the oncoming battle. Bill stayed on, having never seen a Ron and Hermione battle in person. Harry showed Neville the proper way to hide under the covers.

"Of course, it helps to have a Knitten Kitten for a guard," he said. He put Mitten on his pillow.

"I'd rather have a Knitten Toad," Neville confessed. "Hey, Ginny, can you knit a toad? I'll buy the yarn for you on the next Hogsmeade visit."

"Of course," Ginny said, not realizing she was taking her first step to her very own cottage industry. "I think I could probably knit you a toad."

Team Meeting:

The only topic that was discussed more often that the O.W.L.s was Quidditch. Harry's new subscription to _Quidditch Weekly started coming, and copies of __Which Broomstick and _Quidditch Life_ started turning up all over the Prowlery like mushrooms springing up after a heavy rain._

The Gryffindor Quidditch Team met during dinner, when most of the students were at dinner. Angelina politely asked Hermione and Ginny to come back in half an hour. Fred and George hustled Ron out amidst considerable clamor. Once they were outside, there was a loud bang and then Fred and George came back into the Hospital Wing. 

Fred now had purple hair.

Nobody asked.

Hermione and Ginny took their leave and were rather surprised to find that Ron had blue hands (as opposed to purple hair.)

"Don't ask," Ron advised.

They didn't.

They headed off to dinner, although Ron gave a single, wistful look back at the Hospital Wing door. He'd have given a lot to know what was going on back there.

Inside, Harry was flanked on the left by the twins, on the right by Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. Angelina paced nervously at the foot of his bed. Ginny's cat, Pixie decided to crawl into his lap and she purred triumphantly through the meeting.

"So, who's our new captain?" Harry asked.

"That's one thing we're here to decide," Angelina said. "So, how should we go about this?"

There were several moments of silence before Fred spoke up. "How about we try the easy way?" he said. "All those who want to be captain, raise your hand."

Another few moments of silence. Then Angelina timidly put up her hand.

She looked around. No other hands were raised. Alicia and Katie were grinning at her. George was grinning at his twin. Fred was looking at the ceiling. Harry had apparently been swallowed by his bed because all there was to be seen was a Harry-sized lump under his blankets.

"No one else?" she said hesitantly. "I mean, you don't think it's a bit much for me to be Head Girl AND Quidditch Captain?"

Harry's face reappeared. "You're Head Girl?" he asked. "Cool. Congratulations, Captain."

Now everyone but Fred was grinning broadly. At first Angelina thought he was opposed to her being captain, but then she remembered that he had been urging her to try out for it. He was also the one who suggested this method of choosing a captain.

"Looks unanimous to me," Katie laughed. "Way to go, Angelina!"

"So, how about try-outs?" George said. "We need a new Keeper."

"Really? I thought we'd just have Potter catch the Snitch in the first five minutes and save us the bother of having to train somebody up," Angelina said dryly.

"There, give the girl power and it goes straight to her tongue," George joked.

Harry took a deep breath. There was nothing for it but to just ask. "Do you still want me on as Seeker?" he asked.

The others stared at him, aghast.

"Why would we want to get rid of our winning Seeker?" Alicia demanded. 

"You still want to play, don't you?" Angelina asked in panicky tones.

"Cedric died because he was around me when I was attacked," Harry pointed out flatly. "If I'm on the team, you'll be around me a lot. You could get hurt."

"You know what your problem is, Potter?" George asked. 

"You mean, besides being undersized, underfed, moody, stubborn and highly attractive to homicidal maniacs?"

"Erm, actually, that about covers it," George said, scratching his head.

Alicia poked him. "No, your problem is you blame yourself for things that aren't your fault!"

"Seriously, Harry, it is _not_ your fault that Cedric died," Angelina said.

"How do you know that?" Harry challenged.

"Because Dumbledore said that You-Know-Who killed Cedric. There are three certainties in the wizarding world, Harry," Angelina said. She held up her hand and ticked them off her fingers. "Death, taxes and The-Boy-Who-Lived doesn't work for You-Know-Who."

"Dumbledore isn't perfect," Harry said.

"No, but he does know what happened, doesn't he?" George asked.

Harry nodded.

"And, after learning what happened, he didn't blame you, did he?" George persisted.

Harry managed a smile as he shook his head.

"Case closed," George said. He shot his twin a curious look. It wasn't like Fred to keep his mouth shut for so long. However, Fred was looking out the window as if uninterested in the proceedings.

"Okay, so we still only need one new player," Angelina said. "Tryouts are tomorrow. Think you can make it, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll have to watch from here." He picked his mother's spyglass off the bedside table. "I can see around corners and through walls with this. I can see the Quidditch Pitch fine from here."

"Wow, cool," Katie said. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it in a trunk of my mum's," Harry said.

"Think of the possibilities," George grinned.

Alicia growled and slugged his arm.

"If you try to peek into the dormitories, you'll be temporarily blinded," Harry said. He actually didn't know what would happen, but that sounded like a reasonable explanation for the warning label. He showed them the engraved warning. "_Lily from Berry. Warning, do not use this to peek into the boys' dormitory_!"

"Good," Alicia said. "I'd hate to have to keep worrying about that!" She gave the three boys a threatening look.

George tried to look innocent. Harry, who was actually innocent of such thoughts, looked guilty. Fred was clearly not paying attention.

"We also need some reserves," Angelina said. "We five will be gone next year, and it's a bit much to expect Captain Harry and his Keeper to train five recruits from scratch. We need to start this year."  
  


"I agree," Harry said. "But I expect that next year it will be Captain Ron and his Seeker."

"You think Ron will make the team?" George said in pleased tones.

"He loves Quidditch," Harry pointed out. "He's good at it, too. I wouldn't want to be the one who competed against him for that Keeper spot."

"Well, Kathleen Murray won't be so easily intimidated," Angelina said. At Harry's blank look, she elaborated. "Kathleen is a sixth year. She eats, sleeps and breathes Quidditch."

"Oh," Harry said.

"We'll need to get some of the younger students interested," George pointed out. "Murray will be gone the year after us. If she makes the team, that will leave another blank for the Keeper/Seeker/Captain to fill next year."

"Good point, any suggestions?" Angelina asked.

"Joe Rolling might be interested," Alicia said. "He's in Ginny's year, isn't he?"

Katie nodded. "Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas have been talking about becoming Beaters," she added.

"Ginny will probably go for reserve Seeker," George said, after a few minutes. He gave Harry a sideways look. "On the other hand, she might go for the reserve Chaser. She's very good at _chasing."_

Harry felt himself go red and he tried to pretend that he thought that George was referring Quidditch. "She can use my Firebolt," he said. "Whoever becomes our reserve Seeker can," he added hastily. "After all, if the reserve is in the game, then I'm obviously not going to need it, right?"

Nobody had any comments, although there were a few suppressed sniggers.

"Well, I guess we'll see who comes out for the try-outs," Angelina said. "Okay, then, meeting adjourned."

The rest of the team filed out, but Angelina lingered to talk to Harry. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Restless," Harry responded. "I don't think I need to be here, but Madam Pomfrey insists on keeping me until Monday."

"I can hold the trials next week, if you want," Angelina said.

Harry shook his head. "I can't be sure I'll be out then, either. Better hold them tomorrow so you can start training the reserve Seeker right away."

"Right," she hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Harry, did Fred talk to you?" Angelina asked. "I mean, about me being captain. He didn't, erm, talk you out of wanting the position, did he?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen much of him," he said. "I really don't want the job. I have enough to worry about." He paused. "Besides, I don't know anything about Quidditch strategy. All I know is 'Find Snitch. Catch Snitch.'"

"I hope there's a clause in there about avoiding Bludgers," Angelina said, knowing full well that Harry had been known to talk Quidditch strategy until he was hoarse. She couldn't quite believe that he didn't want the job, and she was grateful for his gallantry.

"Is something else wrong?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Angelina sighed. "Fred hasn't been talking to me much lately." 

Harry frowned.

"I mean, he hasn't been rude or avoiding me, he just hasn't been himself," Angelina shook her head.

"I don't know what to say," Harry said. "I think he might feel shy around you because you're Head Girl. Maybe he thinks he isn't good enough for you."

Angelina sighed. "Or maybe he thinks that I'm the enemy," she said. "He didn't seem to have a problem with me being a prefect."

"Maybe it's the Weasleys' Wheezes he's worried about," Harry said.

"You think he and George can make a go of their own business?" Angelina said.

"I wouldn't be against a Weasley with his mind made up," Harry said. "Maybe you should try asking Ginny. She knows the twins better than I do. She could probably give you some hints as to what's bothering Fred."

"Maybe. Thanks, Harry," Angelina said. She stood up. "I know this is none of my business, but, well, are you and Ginny, you know, an item?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I can't quite work out what's going on."

"Maybe talking would help?" Angelina suggested.

"Yeah, but talking about it seems so… cold somehow," Harry sighed in frustration.

"I see," Angelina said. "Well, let me know if you want to talk, Harry. I've always got time to listen." She smiled. "Remember, that's part of my Head Girl duties."

"Yeah, sure, thanks Angelina," Harry watched her leave and wondered when she'd become so nice. Or had she always been that nice and he just never noticed? 

Victory!

Ron burst into the Hospital Wing, beaming and sweaty. "I did it!" he bellowed.

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "This is a hospital! Control yourself or I shall have you removed!" She huffed out of the room.

"She makes that sound so final," Ron said cheerfully.

"She could probably do it, too," Harry said. "I can just see her talking the castle into twisting around so that you never find your way back here."

"Ooo, sounds like a good plot for a mystery novel," Ron said. 

"You read mystery novels?" Harry asked.

"You should have seen me out there," Ron said, ignoring Harry's question. He flung himself on a chair. 

Harry held up Lily's spyglass. "I did. You were brilliant! I particularly liked the expression on Hermione's face that time when you hung by one knee! I wish this thing recorded like the Omnioculars." He thought Ginny had been brilliant, too. He didn't feel like saying so to Ron, however. 

Ron grinned. "I'd almost forgotten about that!" he said. "Your mum's spyglass is certainly useful. Can you see where Hermione is now?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Dennis Creevy got a picture of her face when I made that save," he said, prattling on almost as fast as a Creevy. "Colin was busy taking my picture. You know, I used to think those two were a bit useless, but they kind of grow on you. They got some excellent pictures of Ginny on your Firebolt. She made the reserves. Angelina said that we should try to field an entire reserve team, but all we have are two and a half reserve Chasers."

Harry blinked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how they could have _half_ of a reserve Chaser. The wizarding world had a tendency to be very literal about these things and the mental image wasn't doing his breakfast any good.

Ron must have been able to tell what he was thinking. "I mean, we have two reserve Chasers, Joe Rolling and Kathleen Murray and Ginny, who is both reserve Seeker and reserve Chaser. We need one more reserve Chaser and a reserve Keeper to make a full reserve team."

"Not a different reserve Seeker?" Harry asked.

"Nah, Ginny's too good as a Seeker," Ron said. "She'll probably be as good as Charlie. It will be easier to find another Chaser. At least, it should be easier to find another Chaser." Ron shook his head. "I'm worried about the future of Quidditch in Gryffindor," he said gloomily.

"Well, look on the bright side," Harry said. "You won't lack material for Divination for a while. You can make up all sorts of predictions about the future of Gryffindor Quidditch, not to mention all the horrible ways you could get maimed while playing Keeper."

Ron grinned. "Good point," he said. He picked up a copy of _Which Broomstick from the pile on Harry's bed and started leafing through it. "The rest of the team should be here soon," Ron said. "I just wanted to be the first to tell you."_

"So, who are the reserve Beaters?"

"Seamus and Dean, they work together almost as well as Fred and George, who are practically one person," Ron said. "Now, all I need is a good broom," he added. He threw down his copy of _Which Broomstick and rooted around for the most recent copy.  "Maybe I can find a decent used one. I'd really like a Cleansweep 9 or a Flying Tiger, but that's just not in my budget."_

"A Flying Tiger?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, it's an American broom," Ron said. "Mostly the Weber company puts out racing brooms like the Cloud Leopard or the Winged Jaguar. Their Flying Tiger has speed _and_ maneuverability. It's made from a rare sort of wood called tiger maple. It's good for making brooms with because it hold enchantments so well." He sighed.

Harry fingered a copy of _Quidditch Today_. "You know, if you want, I could…"

"No," Ron said coldly. "I _don't want you to pay for my broomstick. I'm not a beggar."_

"I never meant…"

"And don't think you can 'donate' one to me anonymously. I'm not as naïve as my sister, nor am I as desperate as the twins."

"How? I mean, what makes you think that I gave…"

"How thick do you think I am?" Ron demanded without giving Harry a chance to finish. "Somewhere between Hogwarts and The Burrow, the twins get their hands on a thousand Galleons. The exact amount that you won in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. So, tell me, if you didn't give it to the twins, what did you do with it? You haven't been to Gringott's in over a year and you don't have it in either of your trunks. Remember I saw the inside of both of them over the summer."

"I just wanted…"

"Shut up," Ron stood up abruptly and strode out of the Hospital Wing.

Harry stared at the door.

"He'll cool off."

Harry almost jumped out of his skin when Bill spoke.

"Bill, I mean, Professor Weasley. I didn't know you were here," Harry said.

"I was looking for Ron to congratulate him on making the team," Bill said. "You don't have to buy his friendship, you know."

Harry felt like being sick. "You… do you really think I'm trying to…? I'm not! I just…" Harry bit his lip.

Bill was already regretting his words. "Harry, it's all right. No, I don't think you're trying to buy Ron's friendship. But you don't have to throw your money around like that."

"But what else can I do?" Harry asked. "I just want to show him how much he means to me." He dropped his head. "How much you _all mean to me."_

Bill studied the teen. He remembered the day that Voldemort had been defeated, the day the Potters had died. He'd grown up being grateful to The-Boy-Who-Lived. It was rather disconcerting that this near-mythic figure was so overwhelmingly grateful to his own family simply because they'd been kind to him. "Is that why you gave the twins the prize money from the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" he said after a few minutes.

Harry winced. "Oh, you heard that, did you?"

"Actually, I heard it first from Mad-Eye Moody," Bill said. "The Order was rather concerned about where that money had come from. Mad-Eye wanted to make sure that it hadn't come from some dark wizard or other who wanted to get part of the Weasley family in his debt."

"Oh." Harry turned a sort of sickly green colour. "I hadn't thought of that. Your father's not in trouble, is he?"

"No, nobody's in trouble," Bill said. "However, you have to take things like that into consideration. There are too many people, most notably Lucius Malfoy, who can use that sort of unexplained windfall against my father. As for me, I was just curious as to why you'd give them so much money." 

"Erm, I thought it was a good idea," Harry said. He sighed. "After all I went through that night, I thought the money should be used for something… something that would make people laugh. I'd had enough of tears just then."

There were several minutes of silence after that. "I see," Bill said. "Harry, my family _likes_ you, not your money. You don't need to spend your money on us."

"Your mum and dad have always treated me like one of their own."

"You poor sod," Bill said lightly.

Harry glared. "Don't say that! Don't you ever say anything like that about your parents! You don't realize how damned lucky you are to have parents who love you!"

Bill stiffened. He hadn't thought about how much his parents loved him, not recently. "I do realize," he said quietly. "Sometimes I forget, but I do realize how lucky I am to have my parents." He sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "Harry, I think I understand how you feel. However, you are going about this the wrong way. Let me explain to you how you are going to _diplomatically patch things up with Ron and _still_ get him that broom."_

Diplomacy a la William Weasley:

Harry glared at the Fat Lady.

"I'm sorry, dear, but without the password, I can't let you in."

An obstacle he hadn't considered. He hadn't been to Gryffindor Tower since he'd arrived, so of course he didn't know this year's password.

Just then, the door swung open and Seamus and Dean started to climb out, only to stop when they saw Harry. 

"Harry! What are you doing here?" Seamus exclaimed. 

"We were just going to see you," Dean said. "We made the reserve team!"

"Congratulations! I'm looking for Ron," Harry said. He climbed inside. "Where is he?"

"Over there," Dean said. "Have you two been rowing?"

"No," Harry said. "We are going to settle this with calm, rational diplomacy."

"Should we take cover, then?" Seamus asked, eyes sparkling.

"Yes."

Ron was in a corner, talking to an annoyed looking Ginny and Hermione. Rather, he was listening to them scold him. 

"Honestly, Ron. If you think I'm going to put up with another argument like last year's, you have another think coming. You march right up there and apologize. You _know_ he's generous with his money, there's no need to get angry. I'm sure a simple 'no, thank you' would have been sufficient!"

"Why would you want to hurt him just because he wants to give you a broom?" Ginny asked. "You should learn how to accept gifts graciously."

"WEASLEY!" Harry bellowed. He stalked across the Common Room.

The trio whirled to face him. So did Fred and George, since it had been their name bellowed. In fact, _everybody_ in Gryffindor Tower, including the portraits, several cats, somebody's Puffskein and Trevor, gave him their full attention from whatever piece of furniture they had ducked behind. Only the Weasleys, Hermione, Angelina and Prof. McGonagall were still on their feet.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "You're not supposed to be out of the Hospital Wing! Madam Pomfrey will go spare!"

"She'll have to stand in line," Harry snarled. His green eyes snapped in anger.

Ron gaped at him. 

Harry wasn't sure if it was because he was out of bed, because he was yelling himself red in the face, because he was dressed in the God-Awful-Mutant-Peacock robes that the twins had given him for his birthday, or because he was brandishing a copy of _Which Broomstick_ in one hand and a bedpan in the other.

He concluded later that it was probably a combination of all those things. 

"Listen, Weasley, you need a broom. Gryffindor is _not going to win the Quidditch Cup if you have to fly some broken down excuse of a Comet! This is not charity! This is Quidditch! Do you understand me?! For Quidditch and glory and the thrill of kicking Slytherin House in the Bludgers and ruining Snape's whole year! You __ARE getting a decent broom if I have to buy it for you and permanently attach it to your __family jewels!" He flourished the magazine as if he were planning on beating Ron around the head and shoulders with it._

Everyone was gaping at him now, except the twins, who were literally rolling on the floor, and Angelina, who had tears streaming from her eyes. She was still upright, but only because she was leaning on McGonagall's shoulder. 

"However, since this is for _GRYFFINDOR PRIDE, I'm going to _graciously_ allow all of our fellow Gryffindors to contribute to this worthy cause. Now, pick out which bloody broom you want and fill out the order form while I scrape up the money!" Harry ordered._

Still in shock, Ron took the magazine. Hermione, naturally, had quill and ink at hand. As he couldn't find his voice, Ron meekly began filling out the form.

Harry went over to the twins. "I take it  you two wish to see your names on another Quidditch Cup?" he demanded, holding out the bedpan.

Taking the hint, the twins dug into their pocket and dropped money into the proffered collection bowl. Hermione threw in some, then Neville added some money. Suddenly, there was a rain of Knuts, Sickles and even Galleons. Harry threw in some of the money that he'd found in his trunk. (Mrs. Weasley had done all of his Diagon Alley errands for him and had made sure to get him enough money to get through the school year.) Then he turned to cadge some money from Angelina. 

That's when he realized who his captain was leaning on. Harry stared blankly at her for a few moments. McGonagall rarely came into the common room.

"Oh. Erm. Professor McGonagall," Harry said. "Ahhhh… _hi_. Erm, what brings you here?" He winced at his own words.

McGonagall's mouth was in a thin line. Harry flinched when he remembered the last time she'd looked so angry. That had cost Gryffindor one hundred and fifty house points. "Potter." She looked at the bedpan and her lips got so thin that it looked like she had no lips.  "This is _highly_ inappropriate," she said tightly. "You will _sanitize_ that money before you send it anywhere."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said in a subdued voice.

"When Madam Pomfrey releases you from the Hospital Wing, you will report to me for detention."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said.

"It's not just Mr. Ron Weasley that needs a decent broom, you know," McGonagall went on. "Miss Weasley needs one."

"She'd be using my Firebolt in a game," Harry said.

"Not if she's playing as Chaser," McGonagall pointed out. "Further more, Miss Murray _also_ needs a new broom." She looked at the bedpan. "Have all three of them pick out brooms. If you don't have enough there, then I'll make up the difference."

"Yes, Professor," Harry managed to squeak out.

"And get back to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey is likely to put a full body bind on you if she realizes you've been running around the castle dressed in that fashion disaster."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, having decided this was the only safe answer.

"And one last thing, Potter," McGonagall said sternly.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Take ten points for your inspiring display of team spirit." McGonagall retreated from Gryffindor Tower. The sharp-eared among them swore later that she'd sniggered after she left, but who would believe that?

"Oh, that was _incredibly_ stupid, in an entirely brilliant way," Ron said, laughing and wiping his eyes. "I hope you got pictures of that, Colin."

"Of course," Colin said in an offended tone.

"What was McGonagall doing in here?" Harry said in a strangled voice.

"We've got to get some money from Bill," George said, ignoring Harry.

"Already done," Harry said, rattling the bedpan.

"Bill talked to you about this?" Hermione asked, scandalized that a Hogwarts professor could be so nonchalant about rule-breaking. Of course, Harry had that effect on people, she realized. After all, she'd been thoroughly rule-abiding once, at some really early stage of her life.

"Whose idea do you think it was for me to barge in here like this?" Harry asked. 

Angelina finally fell over laughing.

"What?" Harry and a few other demanded.

"McGonagall came in because Professor Weasley called her through the fireplace and suggested that she find out if all the new members of the Quidditch team had proper brooms," Angelina said from the floor.

Harry gaped. "He set me up! I don't believe it!"

"He's a Weasley," George, Fred and Ron chorused. 

"I wish I knew how he got you in those robes, though," Ron sniggered.

"The robes were my idea," Harry sighed. "None of my Hogwarts robes fit properly."

"I thought Mum got you new robes when we bought your books." Ginny asked. 

"Yeah, but they're too short," Harry said. 

"You can get them fixed on the first Hogsmeade trip," Hermione said. She patted him on the shoulder. Then she sent the Fire-starting Glare of Extreme Huffiness around the room. "Excuse me, we're collecting for three broomsticks now, and I don't mean the pub in Hogsmeade!" 

No fires started. However, there was a rush to add more money to the pot.

"There should be some sort of systematic way of collecting money to make sure that the House Team is properly equipped," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Maybe some sort of Alumni fund-raising."

"You think of everything, don't you?" Neville said admiringly.

"No, but I try," Hermione said with a flattered smile.

Ron looked murderous, so Harry decided to change the subject. "By the way, what's the password? I wouldn't have been able to get in if Dean and Seamus hadn't opened the portrait hole when they had."

Hermione grinned smugly. "It's _Wonky Faint," she said._

Harry gaped. "And I wasn't here to see Ron's reaction!" he mourned.

"Don't worry, I got a picture!" Colin crowed.

***

Author's Notes:

Hoopsnake is from the old superstition that snakes could grab their own tails and roll around like a hoop. The Runespoor is a three-headed snake from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. The Quetzacoatl snake is from Aztec mythology. I've seen different descriptions of Wyverns, and while most of them give them two legs, I've decided that for my purposes they're just winged snakes. The furry Snow Snakes are from Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and Grey Mouser series._

Joe Rolling should be obvious, especially if you say it out loud. Kathleen Murray was also named in honor of Joanne Kathleen Rowling Murray. Of whom you may have heard.

Cloud Leopard is from the animal, clouded leopards. Winged Jaguar is named in honor of the sports car. Flying Tigers is another name for the American Volunteer Group commanded by Claire Chennault. The AVG defended Burma and China with its shark-faced P-40 Tomahawks in the opening months of the Pacific War, from December 1941 to July 1942. For more information: .

Tiger maple is real. Every now and then the wood of a maple tree will have stripes. There's no way of telling before the tree is chopped down that the wood is striped like that. It was prized for making furniture at one time. Might still be, for all I know.

Weber Broom company. Hey, if I can't insert myself into my stories, then what's the point of even writing? ;-)

Review Responses will be in the last chapter, a few quick ones here.

THANK YOU FOR READING! DOUBLE THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!

I know that chapter 21 has a considerably different tone than 20. It was originally intended to be a different story. Chapters 21 – 25 are basically a condensed version of  "A Sirius Situation" only, without much Sirius in it. There were some things I wanted to get in before the official version. Enjoy!


	23. Back To Work second attempt

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Chapter 23: Back to Work

Out of the hospital wing

The second week of October was Harry's first week out of the Hospital Wing. 

It was miserable. 

Harry's very first class was Potions, always guaranteed to be torture. It didn't help that his ill-fitting robes made him look like he'd been dressed by a cross-eyed house-elf.

The Slytherins had a field day with his clothes. Pansy's comments were especially pointed.

Snape was in an especially vindictive mood, no doubt because he'd missed a whole month of Harry baiting. Harry managed to melt his cauldron. Snape gloatingly gave him detention. "I knew you couldn't stay out of trouble for very long, Potter," Snape sneered.

"What an idiot," sniggered Pansy Parkinson. "Bet he can't even tell a hawk from a handsaw."

Harry shot her an incredulous look.

"Look, Potty, just because my father made me come to your ridiculous little party at the hospital doesn't mean I think you're an actual human being," sneered Pansy.

"Good one," Malfoy sneered. "Glad to know you're not interested in associating with _his_ kind."

"Potter, fifteen points from Gryffindor for not paying attention in class!" Snape bellowed suddenly. 

Harry wheeled around and somehow managed to look like he was focusing on Snape's instructions. At least he didn't melt another cauldron… that day.

***

In Charms, Flitwick was going over the Charms that might be on the O.W.L. It should have been easy, after all the charms and hexes that Harry had learned for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. However, he kept mixing the spells up, so he'd banish something he meant to summon, or he'd summon the wrong thing. Once he managed to float every loose article in the room to the ceiling when he meant to float a feather.

Flitwick wasn't angry. However, he gave Harry extra homework just to get things straight in his mind.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly. "You look as though you were in pain."

"I just have a tremendous headache, Hermione," Harry said. He shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "This hasn't been a good day."

***

It didn't take the Inner Eye to know that Divination would be bad. It was always bad. Professor Trelawney took one look at him and burst into tears. "My dear, my poor, poor dear!" she sobbed. The only good side to her theatrics was that she used up one third of the class period in having them.

The class went downhill quickly after that, though. They started out by studying Acultomancy, divination by needles. However, when Harry poked a hole in his finger, Trelawney immediately changed over to Dririmancy, divination by reading the patterns of dripping blood.

"I predict that someone is going to lose house points," Ron said in a misty voice.

"Can I have a damn bandage now?" Harry demanded.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your foul language, Mr. Potter," Madam Trelawney murmured. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor for your remarkable display of Second Sight, Mr. Weasley." 

"Well, at least we came out ahead on points," Ron pointed out contentedly.

Harry's reply would have lost Gryffindor another twenty points had a teacher overheard.

He had to promise Hermione to spend an extra half-hour with her revising for the Charms O.W.L. before she'd use a healing charm on him. He flat out refused to go to the Hospital Wing. "Pomfrey will force me to drink something Snape brewed," he growled.

***

Herbology was in Greenhouse Two. Harry made sure to stay away from the Wizard's Bane, but his imagination brought the scent of it clearly to his nostrils. He barely even noticed the lovely blue roses that he was pruning. It was lucky that he'd had plenty of practice with roses at Privet Drive or he might have damaged them in his distracted state.

However, he did wind up puncturing his fingers again, and had to promise Hermione another half-hour of PROWL revision in return for the proper healing charm.

"She's going to start poking holes in your fingers herself," Ron predicted with relish.

"Why don't you master this charm so I don't have to ask her?" Harry said.

"You're the one with the damaged fingers, mate," Ron said smugly. "Why don't you learn it?"

"I've bloody tried!" Harry shot back. "Besides, I thought that _you_ were the one who wanted to be a Mediwizard. Why don't you already know this one?"

Ron mastered that spell in an amazingly short time.

***

Transfiguration was arguably the worst class. For some reason, nothing turned into what it should have. Instead of turning his handkerchief into toilet paper, it turned into a catalog. Instead of turning his sword into a plowshare, he turned it into a catapult. When he tried to turn his book into a worm, it turned into a caterpillar instead. Somehow, Transfiguration and cats had become permanently associated in his brain.

"I see you need some extra work in Transfiguration, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said sternly as she handed him a reading list that only Hermione could love.

In addition to all the extra class work he'd managed to accumulate, the Animagus studies weren't being nearly as much fun as he'd hoped they'd be. He still found the theory of how to switch forms to be fairly straightforward. However, the safety measures that were giving him problems. Caution didn't seem to be part of his nature.

Both he and Ron had done miserably on that part of McGonagall's test. That meant they had to study not just all the gruesome things that could go wrong with animal transfigurations but why they'd gone wrong and how to avoid them.

"You wouldn't want to get stuck midway between a human or an animal," McGonagall said firmly. "Witherwing is a famous Animagus. His animal shape was a swan and one day he transfigured from swan to a human, but one arm remained a wing. I want three feet of parchment on what happened and what you intend to do to avoid that."

***

History of Magic went by as quietly as usual. It was boring, but it let Harry read a letter from his grandfather, via Mr. Parkinson and an extremely brief note from Sirius, via Lupin.

It also let him catch up on his sleep. He kept expecting to have nightmares, which made it very hard to sleep. However, he did not have any Voldemort type nightmares. Harry hoped that was a good thing. He didn't believe that, though. 

***

Astronomy also went by easily, because Professor Sinistra, pleased to see Harry using her gift to Lily, hadn't objected to his lying on his back and looking at the stars through the spyglass.

Harry asked her why she'd given it to his mother, but Professor Sinistra claimed that she couldn't remember. Harry however, remembered that the note had mentioned something about Sirius and he realized that Sinistra still thought Sirius was a murderer. He didn't press her for information. He wished that she could be told the truth about Sirius, though.

***

Care of Magical Creatures became too interesting, as usual. Now that the class was being held outdoors again, Hagrid was back to his usual 'interestin' critters.' The first lesson was the care and feeding of Kappas.

"Nex' week we'll get into Hinkypunks," Hagrid said happily. "An' after that it'll be Red Caps or Grindylows."

"Wait a minute," Dean protested. "This list sounds familiar!"

"Well, o'course," Hagrid said genially. "I foun' one o' Lupin's old course outlines. I reckoned they'd be good for you to work on, seein' that yeh already know how ter defend yerselves again' 'em."

Malfoy, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle dropped out of the class. That was the best thing that happened to Harry for a long time.

Saturday 

Harry was grateful when Saturday arrived. He got to sleep late. He didn't have to face the Slytherins. Even Professor McGonagall had told him and Ron that she was letting them off Animagi studies for the day. 

"Miss Johnson is planning to start Quidditch training," McGonagall said. "I expect you two to work very hard on that."

"Yes, Professor," Ron and Harry had chorused.

"How does your new broom feel, Mr. Weasley?"

"Wonderful!" Ron grinned.

"What did you get?" McGonagall wanted to know.

"A Flying Tiger," Ron said happily. "I happened across an advert put in by some witch whose husband bought one without consulting her. It's practically new and it cost less than the Cleansweep 8's that Ginny and Kathleen bought."

"How did your parents react when you told them?"

"Bill sent them an owl saying that all of Gryffindor pitched in to buy the three of us brooms," Ron said. "Mum's been sending homemade sweets ever since."

"Yes, she sent some to me, as well," McGonagall said with the tiniest of smiles. "Well, have a good practice and I'll see you on Monday. Bring your sister and Miss Granger if they're still interested in becoming Animagi."

"Sounds like the ugly part of the training is over," Ron said happily. "We'll probably get into the actual transfiguration lessons now."

Harry didn't answer.

"Something eating you?" Ron asked.

"Glad you like your new broom," Harry said stiffly.

Ron sighed. "I'm sorry that I blew up at you, okay? It's just…" he sighed.

"It's just what?" Harry demanded.

"You wouldn't understand," Ron snapped. "It's not like you've ever done without!"

Harry glared. "Done without? You mean I've never done without money, decent fitting clothes and real birthday presents? I didn't spend years living off the grudging charity of people who hated me? I didn't spend most of my childhood begging for affection and never getting it? YOU don't know what it's like to do without, Weasley. All you ever lacked was _money_!" he spat that out and turned to walk off.

The next thing he knew he was flat on his back with a sore jaw. "What was that for?"

"For trying to walk out on this," Ron said firmly. "We are not having another quarrel like last year! We're settling this now!"

"I'm not the one who keeps starting fights," growled Harry as he pulled free. He conveniently ignored the fact that he _had_ started this fight.

"I didn't start _this_ fight!" Ron objected.

"What is with you, anyway? Are you angry because of Ginny?" Harry demanded, ignoring Ron's protests.

"Why? What have you done with Ginny?"

"Nothing," Harry growled. "We're _just friends_!"

"What about you and Hermione?" Ron demanded.

"We are friends," Harry glared at him. "That's it. You would have probably noticed if we were more than that."

"Like maybe you kissing when you see each other?" Ron demanded, tight-lipped.

Harry stared at him. "When did we ever kiss?"

"In the train! When you reappeared out of thin air!" Ron reminded him.

"Oh." Harry rubbed his jaw. "So I didn't imagine it." He ran his index finger along his lower lip.

Ron gaped at him. "How could you not remember?"

"Give me a break!" Harry snapped. "I was running a fever and was operating on autopilot!" He rolled to his feet and glared up at Ron. 

"On what?" Ron asked.

"I was practically a zombie by that point!" Harry snapped. "Don't tell me you've been nursing a grudge because Hermione has bad aim!"

"Bad aim?"

"She probably meant to kiss my cheek," Harry pointed out. "Trains are exactly stable, you know."

"Oh. Right." Ron hesitated.

"I'm not interested in her that way!"

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause and neither of them noticed Ginny sneaking past them.

"Why not?"

"Because," Harry shrugged. "I dunno. She's nice and pretty and everything, but I'm more interested in her as a sister than a girlfriend." 

Ginny let the portrait shut very gently. She sighed and shook her head sadly. She remembered her vow that she'd love Harry's wife, no matter who it was, but that seemed like such a silly promise, now.

Harry glared at Ron. "Do you really think I'd try to steal her from you?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, it's obvious that she prefers you," Harry went on.

"It is?"

"And it's not like she's the kind to be impressed with this whole Boy-Who-Lived nonsense, is it?"

"Erm, of course not," Ron said.

"And what does this have to do with me buying you a broom, anyway?" Harry asked.

"Erm," was Ron's witty rejoinder.

"I thought so."

"It's just that I feel uncomfortable when you buy me stuff," Ron said.

"Why?"

"I dunno," Ron paused. "Just do me a favor and don't buy me a Christmas present this year, okay?"

"But I like buying presents!" Harry objected.

"So, buy something for someone else. Ginny would love a present from you. Heck, buy something for everybody but me, if it makes you happy."

"Would you allow me to give you a card?" Harry asked tiredly.

"Ah, why not?" Ron said. "As long as it doesn't sing or spray anything," he added hastily when Harry grinned at him.

"Speaking of spraying things," Harry said. "I still haven't got a birthday present for Hermione. I still owe her for that fountain puzzle."

Ron grinned. "Good luck; she's a hard one to put something over on."

Practice Makes Perfect

Practice that Saturday afternoon was a dream come true. Flying was the best medicine for Harry's spirit. Quidditch was as wonderful as he remembered it.

Angelina had a knack for getting the best teamwork out of her players. Harry thought it was a shame that she hadn't had the chance to be captain last year. The Quidditch Cup would have surely had Gryffindor's name on it.

And Cedric would still be alive.

Damn the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Harry did his best to keep those thoughts from his head as he raced Ginny for the Snitch. She was good, he thought. She might have beaten him a few times if his Firebolt hadn't been so much faster than her Cleansweep 8.

After the regular practice, Harry and Ginny stayed out so that Ginny could get the feel of the Firebolt.

"Ron graciously allowed me to fly it a few times during the summer," Ginny said. "But flying in the orchard is _not_ the same as really flying free."

Harry thought that made sense, so he leaned back in the grass while Ginny tried some aerial acrobatics. After an hour or so, she touched down lightly and came over to Harry. "This has got to be the best broom ever created!" she crowed.

Harry didn't answer. He lay on the grass, hands clasped behind his head, completely still.

Worried, Ginny dropped to her knees next to the unmoving boy. She had a brief flash to the Chamber of Secrets. That time, _she_ had been the one stretched out on the ground and Harry had been kneeling beside her. She reached out a trembling hand just as Harry let out a loud snort. He stirred a little, but did not open his eyes.

Ginny giggled and rocked back on her heels to watch Harry sleep. He was so cute, she thought. Perpetually tousled hair, fair skin slightly reddened from being in the sun all afternoon. She looked at his lips. They were slightly parted, as if in invitation.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Ginny leaned forward.

Suddenly, she was looking into Harry's startled eyes. The next moment, Harry was sitting three feet away with a panicky expression on his face.

"Sorry," Ginny huffed. "I didn't mean to startle you." Bitter lines formed at the corner of her mouth. "I thought we were, well, you know. Never mind, I heard you and Ron arguing."

Harry looked confused and apologetic. "I… erm… Ginny, look. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Ginny sighed and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Harry cried. Automatically, he reached out to her as if to pull her back.

Ginny's mouth thinned like McGonagall's. She should just stomp right back to her room in Gryffindor Tower. That would teach him!

"Teach him what?" she asked herself. It wouldn't solve anything. Besides, she would always wonder what he wanted to say. Therefore, she turned around and went back over to Harry. "Well?" she said, looking down at him.

Harry blinked up at her a few times and let his hand drop back to the grass. "Erm. Oh."

Silence.

Harry looked off into the distance.

"I guess you might as well continue storming off," he said. "I haven't got a clue as to what to say."

Ginny sat down abruptly. She'd fantasized all August about the sort of deep conversations she and Harry might have had, if the idiot Fudge hadn't interfered. She was going to have deep conversation with him now if it killed them both!

She took a deep breath. "Just tell me the truth," she said quietly. "I'll deal with it the best I can. Like I said, I heard you and Ron arguing."

Harry frowned at her. "Oh, were you upset by Hermione kissing me, too?" he said.

"Oh, was that who you were talking about?" Ginny asked, startled.

Harry frowned at her. "I thought you said you overheard us."

"Erm, I heard you say that you weren't interested in 'her' that way," Ginny said.

"Oh, and you thought I meant you?" 

Ginny nodded. 

"Did it bother you that Hermione kissed me?"

"Erm, no. I know why she kissed you. I only wished that I'd had the nerve to kiss you, too." Ginny hesitated. "I don't think Hermione is interested in you."

"Good," Harry said.

"So, what is the truth about how you feel about me?" Ginny said, plucking up her Gryffindor courage.

Harry started plucking up blades of grass. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. "Well, the thing is, I don't _know_ what the truth is. I like you and all."

"But not _that way_," Ginny said.

"I don't know," Harry said. He was silent for a while, and then he sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess it's stupid, but I don't know if I like you… _that way_ or not." He looked at her. "I mean, you're a wonderful person, and I appreciate all the nice things that you did for me over the summer, and I think you're really smart and funny."

"So, you don't mind that I'm not very pretty?" Ginny asked.

"Pretty? You're beautiful!"

Harry's eyes went wide. Where had that come from? Was he stringing her along? After all, he'd just said that he _wasn't_ interested. Wait, he said he didn't _know_ if he was interested. _Oh, bloody hell, what am I supposed to do?_ He didn't know how to retract that without hurting her feelings and he really, really did not want to hurt Ginny Weasley's feelings.

Tell her the truth, she said. Okay, so what _was_ the truth? "Sorry," he muttered. "That's giving you mixed signals, but you _did_ ask for the truth." 

Ginny was glad he wasn't looking at her, because her jaw refused to come off the lawn. She was beautiful? Harry Potter thought she was beautiful? Then why didn't he like her _that way_? Was he interested in somebody else? Did he think Cho Chang was beautiful? All these questions flashed through her mind and were instantly dismissed as being unfair or something she did not want to know. After almost a minute of silence, she realized what the only reasonable answer was.

"Erm, thank you," she said. 

"You're welcome."

There was an awkward silence. Harry began to fuss with the twigs of his Firebolt. "Um, look, I really don't want to hurt you, but I'm not sure what to do next. Can we just, erm, be friends for now?"

Ginny smiled a little sadly. "Well, yes, that will be a good place to start. Ron and Hermione started as friends, didn't they?"

"I don't think they're quite an item yet," Harry said. "Besides, I don't want to argue all the time like they do."

Ginny grinned. "Okay, we'll see if we can do this more… quietly."

Harry flashed her a shy smile that made her knees quiver and her stomach growl. She blushed when she realized that her stomach growling probably had nothing to do with budding romance.

"I guess we should get back to the castle now," Harry said, politely pretending he hadn't heard her stomach. "It's almost dinner time."

"Okay," Ginny said. They gathered their gear and headed back for the castle. 

"By the way, McGonagall said that you and Hermione were welcome to join us in our Animagus lessons if you wanted," Harry said.

"Oh, I want," Ginny said. "I'm dying to know what Hermione's Animagus form is."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Mine, too, of course," she added. "But I really want to know what made that book catch on fire."

"Ah," Harry replied.

They walked in silence, each trying to sort through a plethora of confusing emotions.

To Ginny, it finally boiled down to one simple fact. Harry Potter had said she was beautiful. She had to concentrate very hard not to start skipping. 

Sirius Letter:

Sunday, Harry got a longer letter from Sirius that told him almost nothing that he wanted to know other than the fact that Sirius and Remus were alive, somewhere. Harry sighed. He really didn't expect Sirius to fill him in by owl; there was too much danger of it being intercepted. He just wanted to know that Sirius wasn't doing something stupid.

He forced himself to concentrate on the two, no three, really good bits of the letter. The longest part was a summary of how Animal Transfigurations gone wrong, complete with bibliography. ("READ THIS BOOK!" Sirius urged. "McGonagall will ask you questions about it!") The second longest was a story about how Sirius and James had sneaked into the girl's loo and swapped out the soap for bars of cleanser that would give the users freckles. The best bit was also the shortest. Sirius had signed the letter, "Love, Dad."

He stared at that for a long time, not believing how good two words could make him feel. Then he shook himself into action and headed for the library for a copy of _Man or Mouse? Why You REALLY Don't Want to be an Animagus_.

Not Like the Rehearsal

Cho Chang had been watching Harry Potter all term. She'd seen him shovel down food at the Welcoming Feast as if he didn't have a care in the world. How dare he? How dare he be alive when Cedric was dead? How dare he be happy when she'd spent the summer in mourning? How dare he just get on with his life as if nothing had happened?

Dumbledore said that You-Know-Who had killed Cedric, so Potter wasn't actually a murderer. However, it was his carelessness that had cost Cedric his life. She wanted to punish him for that. Not kill him; of course, she wasn't that kind. She just wanted to make him suffer a fraction of what she had suffered, of what the Diggory family had suffered.

She started planning. Actually, she'd been planning all summer. Practicing the scathing lecture that she would deliver to Potter to punish him. She planned all the right words to bring home the enormity of what he'd done.

She thought about going to see him in the Hospital Wing, but didn't want to risk running into his fan club. "My god," she thought sourly. "After all he's done, how can he still have a fan club?"

Her chance came shortly before the first Quidditch match of the season. It was to be Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Cho wasn't sure that she could handle it. She'd probably spend as much time trying to foul Potter as she did trying to catch the Snitch. Maybe she shouldn't even bother trying to catch the Snitch, she thought as she made her way to the library. The only one who had ever beaten Potter was Cedric. Now Cedric was dead and Potter…

Potter almost ran into her on his way out of the library.

They stared at each other for a few heartbeats. He was looking healthy and he appeared to have been eating and sleeping well. Cho opened her mouth to berate him, but before she did, she met his eyes.

His eyes held the same pain that Cho saw in her mirror every day.

"Cho, I'm so sorry," Harry said hoarsely. "I never meant to enter that contest. I never meant to get Cedric… for Cedric to…"

Cho's carefully rehearsed diatribe vanished from her mind and a large chunk of bitterness vanished from her heart. Harry wasn't guilty, nor was he carefree. Suddenly she realized that he had not just shrugged off Cedric's death. It had meant something to him.

"I know," she said. "I believe you. It's not your fault." She lowered her eyes. "I'm grateful that you brought him back with you."

"It was the least I could do," Harry said bitterly.

"I was wondering… I know Dumbledore told us not to ask, but…"

"If you want, I'll tell you what happened that night," Harry said hoarsely. "But I can't right now."

"Thank you," Cho said.

"Cho?" Harry held the door open for her. "He didn't suffer, I mean, we didn't have time to realize what was going on before he got killed and… and it was fast. If that's any consolation, he didn't get tortured or anything."

Cho took a deep breath and another pain inside her subsided. "Thank you, Harry," she said. "I'll be able to sleep better knowing that."

Girl Talk/ Boy Advice:

"Ginny? Are you all right?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked up from her History of Magic essay and made a face. "I've been worse," she said. "Any day that doesn't start with rooster feathers all over my pillow can't be all bad."

Hermione was taken aback. She'd never heard Ginny joke about Riddle's diary before.

"Yes, I can make jokes about it, now," Ginny said. "They aren't very good ones, but Professor Dumbledore tells me it's the spirit that counts." She slammed her book shut. "Too bad Binns doesn't have any spirit in his teaching."

Hermione giggled. "You'd think that a ghost would have more spirit," she said. She plunked down a tray that held a plate of sandwiches, some apples and a jug on the table. "You missed dinner," she said. She poured the juice into two golden goblets.

Ginny's eyes went wide. "Oh, my," she looked at her textbook. "Would you believe me if I said I was so interested in the adventures of Boris Bad-enough that I completely lost track of time?" She picked up a sandwich and took a bite out of it. Trust Hermione to know that corned beef was her favorite. (She'd learned to like it because it was one of the few things that Ron wouldn't eat, so there would always be plenty of it for her.)

"No."

Ginny took a swig of juice and found out it was soft apple cider. "Would you believe that I was so busy daydreaming about Harry that I forgot to finish my essay, which is due first thing tomorrow and I've been desperately trying to finish it before bedtime?"

"Sounds more reasonable," Hermione said. "So, how are things going with you and Harry? You've been spending a lot of time together after the Quidditch practices." She took a swig of her cider.

"Confusing," Ginny sighed. "He says he likes me." She leaned closer and whispered in Hermione's ear. "He said I was beautiful!"

Hermione broke into a wide grin. "Sounds promising!" She wondered what it felt like to be beautiful.

"The trouble is, he isn't sure if he likes me, you know, _that way_." 

"_You_ know what you want," Hermione said. "Why not make a move?"

"I tried stealing a kiss from him and he almost leaped out of his skin," Ginny confessed.

"Oh, dear, he wasn't offended was he?" 

"No, he was just startled," Ginny sighed. "We talked a little after that, and he asked if we could take it slow?"

"Well, that's better than a definite, 'thanks, but no thanks,'" Hermione said.

"But not by much," Ginny sighed.

"Ladies!" George's voice boomed in their ears.

They both jumped and shrieked.

George's grin almost split his face in two. "And I wasn't even trying, damn I'm good!"

"George, one point from Gryffindor for being a prat!" Hermione snapped.

"Hey, I was only trying to help!" George said in wounded tones.

"Trying to help yourself to a sandwich," Ginny muttered darkly.

"Don't mind if I do," George said, snagging one. "I couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation."

"That's because you were eavesdropping," Ginny said.

"You think that might have something to do with it?" George said curiously. "Anyway, I thought I'd give you lovely ladies a word or two of sage advice about boys."

"Really?" Hermione asked dryly.

"Well, I do have a better grasp of the boyish thinking process, such as it is, than you two. Me being a boy and you being girls."

"You were plenty surprised to find out I was a girl this summer," Ginny said with a mocking grin.

"Well, I was actually surprised that you had, shall we say, a figure? You are a very pretty young woman, Miss Weasley. For one who remembers seeing you run around the house in your nappies, that was quite a shock."

Ginny turned red. "George, if you don't have anything useful to say…" she said.

"I do! You lovely young ladies were just bemoaning a lack of romantic savvy in young Mr. Potter. However, I would like to point out to you the advantage of that."

"Which is?"

"It's honest." George suddenly looked serious. "We boys aren't very good at this sort of thing when it's our first time. People, in fact, are seldom good at something this important and complicated the first time they try it. Expertise comes with experience."

"Meaning?" Hermione cocked her head and waited for some sort of punch line. She got one, but not the way she would have expected.

"If a boy, or a man, knows all the right things to say at the beginning of a relationship, that means he's said it before." George eyed them both soberly. "Maybe even lots of times before. A young man with a _lot_ of experience at romance probably isn't very sincere about it. So, my sage advice in the matter is to take the tongue-tied novice over the silver-tongued expert."

Ginny and Hermione looked at him with a newfound respect.

"That is very profound, brother of mine," Fred said from behind them.

All three jumped. Hermione with a small shriek, George with a yelp, and Ginny with a word worth three days' detention.

"Such language!" Fred said with admiration. "Hermione, George, you should take a page from Ginny's book. Squealing is for little girls, George."

George hit him.

"So, how are things with you and Angelina?" Ginny asked before things escalated into a brawl.

"Why do you ask?" Fred said. 

"Because you seem so unhappy about something," Ginny said.

"Yeah, well, she's, you know, busy," Fred said evasively.

"Just because she's Head Girl doesn't mean she doesn't like you any more," Ginny said. "She's still Angelina. You're still Fred."

"Like that's a good thing?" Fred murmured.

"It's not a bad thing," George returned. "Look, if you're worried about impressing Angelina, then concentrate on the N.E.W.T.s. The Wheezes can wait a few months. It'll make Mum happy, too."

"In the meanwhile, ask her on a date," Ginny advised. "Let her know that you're still interested in her while you still have the chance. Don't wait until she falls for somebody else!"

"Oh," Fred said. "I suppose you're right." He smiled suddenly. "At least that's one thing that men are still superior at. Making romantic overtures."

Hermione made a face. "Women can make romantic overtures, too!" she declared hotly.

"Really? Then why haven't you made one at Ron? It's obvious that you're overwhelmed by the Weasley charm. Go on, ask him on a date," Fred said mockingly. "Ask him to go to Hogsmeade with you at the end of the month."

"We always go to…" Hermione wasn't permitted to finish.

"Better yet, ask him to go to the Hallowe'en Ball with you."

Hermione's mouth had dropped open somewhere in the middle of all this.

Ginny giggled. "He's got a point, Hermione."

"Really? In that case, why don't you ask Harry to be your date?" Hermione snapped.

George laughed. "Okay, here's the bet, you three ask the romantic partner of your choice to the Hallowe'en ball before he or she asks you. If you do, then…" he pursed his lips. "Then I'll…"

"Then you will ask McGonagall to dance with you," Ginny said with a wicked grin.

"Only if it's not against the rules for a teacher to dance with a student," George said.

"Fair enough," Ginny's grin grew wider. "If it is, then you have to ask Millicent Bulstrode."

***

Harry settled in to his classes, and stopped getting extra assignments from McGonagall and Flitwick. He also managed to avoid melting any cauldrons.

The only remarkable thing that happened in class in October was in the usually boring History of Magic class. 

In one class, Binns started reading "Letters from the Past." After five minutes, Harry realized that these were actually letters from Tiberius Potter. Instead of Goblin Rebellions or Warlock Conventions, these letters detailed Tiberius' futile search for the Chamber of Secrets.

The rest of the class gaped at Binns as they caught on. Hermione took furious notes to keep up.

Afterwards, they were never sure if Binns had read Tiberius' letters on purpose or if _someone_ (*cough* Sir Nicholas *cough*) had slipped the letters into Binns' notes without the ghostly teacher noticing.

When Binns finished with the letters, Ron interrupted Binns the way that Hermione had during their second year.

"Yes, Mr. Wisely?" Binns asked.

Ron hid a grin, but didn't correct him. "Sir, if somebody were to prove that a legend was real, could they claim that discovery as extra points on their History of Magic O.W.L.?"

Binns blinked at him. "In the late nineteenth century, Heinrich Schliemann discovered the remains of the City of Troy, which was widely believed to be nothing but a myth. There was something about that affecting his O.W.L.s, I believe."

Ron was happy until Hermione pointed out that Schliemann had been too old for O.W.L.s at that point of his career.

"Why, did you discover something?" Binns asked before Ron could do more than glare at Hermione.

"Yeah, Harry and I discovered the Chamber of Secrets."

Binns glared at them and then assigned a four-foot essay on the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets to both Ron and Harry.

Harry was rather annoyed because he had just caught up in his classes.

Sunday Afternoon with Dusty and Detention:

Harry's detention from Snape was to scrub out all the toilets in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Harry sighed but kept his opinion to himself. There were worse things than Moaning Myrtle. Snape knew most of them, too. It was actually rather surprising that he didn't come up for something worse.

Harry found out later that Dumbledore had given the Potions Master strict orders not to give Harry detention in the dungeons. As with many well-intentioned deeds, that one was destined to bounce back on Dumbledore's head.

"Harry! How nice to see you!" Myrtle cooed. "Come to make things nice for the next time you need to brew an illegal potion?"

"No, I just have detention for melting a cauldron in Snape's class," Harry said glumly.

"I say, that's a rather bad break," a new voice interjected.

Harry and Myrtle whirled around to see a new ghost there. The boy looked to be twelve or thirteen. "Hello," he said. "I'm Dusty."

"I'm Myrtle, this is Harry," Myrtle said. "Why haven't I seen you around before?" she asked.

"You haven't looked," Dusty replied. The boy ghost looked at Harry curiously. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I'm on detention," Harry repeated. Reminded, he set about scrubbing out the toilets. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is really here," Dusty said.

"Yes, it is," Myrtle said firmly.

"Can I see it?" Dusty asked.

"No, only a Parselmouth can open it," Myrtle said.

"Oh," Dusty sounded disappointed.

"Besides, I don't think Dumbledore would permit it," Harry said.

"Really? That would be pretty nervy of the old boy, considering some of the things Red got up to when he was a student here."

Harry and Myrtle looked at Dusty speculatively. "You knew Albus Dumbledore when he was a student?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, we were in the same year," Dusty said. He drifted past a mirror and stopped. "Oh, my, I haven't looked this young in a long time." 

"I thought ghosts were supposed to look the age they were when they died?" Myrtle said.

"Oh, you can't look older than you were," Dusty said. "But sometimes, you can look younger. Especially if something comes up to remind you of your younger self." He looked down his nose at them. It was a strangely familiar gesture. "Age is a state of mind. Especially when you're dead."

Harry and Myrtle exchanged looks, but neither had a response for that. 

The boy ghost laughed. "Why don't I tell you about the time Red decided to charm Old Dippet's firedogs to chase his cat?"

Harry spent the rest of his detention learning all sorts of interesting blackmail material about Albus Dumbledore. 

Nerves of Pumpkin:

__

It was now or never, Ginny thought. It was the last Friday of October. The Gryffindor / Ravenclaw match was Sunday. Tomorrow was the first Hogsmeade trip of the term. Hallowe'en was Tuesday, so this would be the only opportunity to get a costume for the fancy dress party.

It was also her best opportunity to ask Harry to go with her. As had become usual with them, they stayed after the team practice so Ginny could get the feel of the Firebolt. She was too nervous to fly for long and soon she and Harry were headed back to the castle.

"Are you feeling all right, Ginny?" Harry asked in genuine concern.

Ginny nodded. "I'm just trying to think of what to wear for the fancy dress ball," she said. She took a deep breath.

"Oh, I thought that I'd wear those awful robes that Fred and George gave me," Harry said.

"This party is really important to me because it's my best chance of fulfilling a life-long ambition of mine," Ginny confided. 

"Really?" Harry looked curious, but not wary. Obviously, it hadn't occurred to him that one of her life-long ambitions might be to jump his bones.

Ginny decided not to mention that one; instead, she went for one that he might sympathize with.

"Ever since I was a little girl," Ginny said. "I have had a burning desire…" she took a deep breath. "…To give George and Fred a heart attack."

Harry laughed. "One apiece or would just one of them collapsing suit your purposes?"

"It will have to be one apiece," Ginny said grimly.

"How can I help?" Harry asked, just as Ginny hoped he would.

"Well, you know that my brothers are all lion-hearted," Ginny explained. "It takes a lot to scare them. Frankly, anything that will scare them will likely give some of the first-years fatal heart-attacks."

"Wouldn't want that," Harry agreed.

"So I finally thought of something that I could go as that would floor my brothers, Ron included, yet not actually kill anybody."

"And that would be…?"  


"Your date."

Harry gaped at her for a minute, and then a sunny smile broke out on his face. Ginny's approach was perfect, in his opinion. It was a totally non-threatening way to approach this. If he said 'yes', then she had a date for the fancy dress party. If he said 'no', then he wasn't rejecting her, he was rejecting the idea of playing a prank on the twins. Best of all, saying yes didn't mean that he was her boyfriend; it just meant that they were friends.

"Erm, yes, thank you," he said.

Ginny's eyes went wide as if she'd been expecting a 'no.'

"And I have an idea for what you can dress up as," Harry added.

"What?"

"Do you still have your white dress robes from last year?" Harry asked.

"Erm, yes, why?"

"I thought you could go as an angel."

It was Ginny's turn to gape. Then she started laughing so hard she had to lean against Harry to stay upright. She didn't see Harry's eyes go wide as he finally realized what had so startled Ron and the twins when they'd seen her in her dress robes. As he never saw her in anything but her androgynous school uniform, he hadn't realized how much little Ginny Weasley had, erm, blossomed over the summer.

Maybe he should make sure to be the first one to ask her to the Yule Ball.

Confessions of an Animagus (2)

When they got into the castle, they were met by Prof. McGonagall, Ron and Hermione.

"The Headmaster would like to speak to the four of you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said before Harry could formulate a coherent question.

They were in trouble. Harry could sense it in the stiffness in McGonagall's shoulders. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had obviously come to the same conclusion and they were looking at him, and each other, in bewilderment. 

Harry forgot his worries when he stepped into Dumbledore's office, however. Remus Lupin was there. Sitting at his feet was a large, black dog.

Harry grinned. "Remus! Snuffles!"

"Hello, Harry, Hermione, Ron," Remus said with a smile. He looked at Ginny. "Hello, Miss Weasley."

"Ginny will do, Professor Lupin," she said.

"Then you should call me Remus. I'm not a professor anymore," he added wistfully.

"Was this the dog that was going to be Harry's bodyguard during the summer?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore said. "But there is far more to this dog than meets the eye, Miss Weasley. And it's time for you to learn its secret."

The dog stood up expectantly. 

"This isn't a real dog," Dumbledore said. "He is an Animagus."

"Mr. Padfoot," Ron threw in.

"One of the Marauders?" Ginny asked.

"Indeed," Remus said. "His real name is Sirius Black."

Ginny blinked at him. "You can't mean the Sirius Black who escaped from Azkaban and spent a whole school year trying to kill Harry?"

"I never tried to kill Harry," Sirius said.

Ginny stared at him slack jawed.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, running over to greet him. "You're here! Are you all right? Where have you been? I've been worried!"

"How many times did he breathe since he started?" Sirius asked Remus in a stage whisper. He ruffled his godson's hair affectionately and grinned faintly at the other two.

Ginny stared at them. It was a good thing nobody wanted her to speak, because she had temporarily lost command of the vocal cords.

"I've been learning how to ask questions from Hermione," Harry said, unabashed. ("Harry!" Hermione said in scandalized tones.) "It's great to see you! Both of you!"

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry's nervousness came back in full force. "Yes, Headmaster?" he asked.

"Is there something you would like to tell me?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry couldn't think of what Dumbledore might be talking about. 

Sirius cleared his throat and Harry shot him a puzzled look. 

"Nicely?" Sirius prompted.

"Oh," Harry said.

"What about Nicely?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, I'm very disappointed in you," McGonagall said. "You told us that _The Animagus Survival_ _Guide_ came from Lily Potter's trunk." McGonagall's mouth was a very tight line.

"She didn't know," Harry blurted out. "I never told her!"

"Told me what?" Hermione asked. She looked torn between hurt, bewilderment and anger.

"I got it from Sirius."

"Oh, so that was the cool birthday present that you mentioned," Ron said. "I wondered."

"You lied to me?" Hermione looked horrified.

"Well, I," Harry gave up. He couldn't think of any way to explain it. "Yes, I lied to you."

The expression of disgust in her eyes made him want to crawl under the sofa.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You… you could have cost me my prefect's badge!" shrilled Hermione. "Some friend you are! Didn't you trust me?"

Harry hung his head. "I just wanted to talk to Sirius before I told anybody where it had come from."

"You mean, you didn't want to talk about Sirius in front of me," Ginny said, recovering her voice.

Harry at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

"Don't you trust me?" Ginny asked.

"Harry is the one who recommended that you be informed, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said. "He is under orders to not talk about what we are doing, as it's not exactly approved of by the Ministry."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Nice to see that you _can_ follow orders, Harry," she couldn't resist adding.

Harry winced.

"What about Neville?" Ginny asked. "He's in this as much as anybody. His parents…" she swallowed hard. "And he tackled Sirius Black." She frowned. "Does he already know?"

"I hope not," Sirius said. "I hope that my friends would at least say 'hello' as they trampled over me."

"James was always polite that way," Remus confirmed.

Harry smiled faintly.

"Mr. Longbottom hasn't been informed," Dumbledore said. 

"I have a feeling he's not totally in the dark," Harry added. 

"What makes you think that?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"I dunno, something about the way he reacted when he was congratulated on tackling Sirius," Harry said with a shrug.

"I hope you weren't irresponsible enough to let him overhear you talking about me," Sirius said.

Hermione turned on him. "You have a lot of nerve talking about being irresponsible!" she snapped. "That Animagus Guide has got to be the most irresponsible bit of magic I've ever seen!"

"He's gifted that way," Remus said dryly.

"How can you be so calm about it?" Hermione demanded. "Don't you understand what that book does? It transfers knowledge directly to the brain like a _Tabla Rosa_ curse. I've read about those. They were designed to control people by erasing their brains, like programming a Muggle computer. The _Tabla Rosa_ actually destroys the victim's memories in order to put the new knowledge in place! Who knows what sort of damage you've done to Ron and Harry!" 

Sirius flinched. "I didn't realize that Ron would be affected, to."

Remus looked at him in horror. "You deliberately put a _Tabla Rosa_ curse in Nicely?"

Sirius nodded.

"Then why were you so surprised when Nicely transfigured me into a cat?" Harry asked.

"I didn't know she'd be able to transfigure you," Sirius explained. "I just thought that she'd plant the knowledge of how to transfigure into your brain, so you could access it."

"Sirius, please explain yourself," Dumbledore asked sternly.

"I don't think I can," Sirius said.

Harry didn't need an explanation, and he wasn't sure any would be adequate. How could you make someone as old as Dumbledore understand what it was like to be robbed of your past? How to make someone as young as Ron and Hermione understand what it was like to have no future? 

He looked up at Sirius trustingly.

"I am so sorry, Harry," Sirius murmured. "I had no right to do that to you. I just didn't think."

"Don't apologize," Harry said. "We should have had a lifetime of memories behind us. We shouldn't have to resort to shortcuts like this," he said quietly. He looked at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about Nicely right away, Headmaster. However, I will thank you to keep your opinion of the matter to yourself."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Harry had a feeling the Dumbledore might understand. "I'm afraid that I'll have to give you detention, and you will not be permitted to go to Hogsmeade this weekend." 

Harry made a small sound of protest.

Dumbledore looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Yes?"

"I was hoping to get the hems of my robes fixed," Harry said unhappily.

"And he needs new glasses," Ginny said firmly.

Harry gave her a blank look. "Why?"

"Because your old ones are ugly. Besides, what if something happens to them? You need a reserve pair in case you lose them again."

Harry opened his mouth, couldn't think of any response, and closed it again.

Sirius looked smug. "I told you those glasses were ugly," he said.

"Erm, right," Harry said.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "You will go to Hogsmeade, suitably chaperoned, of course, so you may have your robes altered and so you may get new glasses. Then you will come straight back to the castle."

"Yes, Headmaster."

Dumbledore cast around for a change in subject. 

Fortunately, Ginny was a built in one. She cleared her throat pointedly. 

"Ah, yes, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, actually looking relieved. "I'd like to _formally_ introduce Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Miss Ginny Weasley, of whom you've no doubt heard."

Sirius grinned at her. "Yes, Harry has mentioned you in his letters, Miss Weasley."

"All lies," Ginny said automatically. "It was all Ron's fault, anyway," she added when her first sally noticeably relaxed tensions in the room.

"I understand you're studying to become an Animagus yourself," Remus put in.

"I will be," Ginny said. "And speaking of secrets, there's one more that I should tell you all about."

The adults looked attentive and the trio looked puzzled. 

"I'm a Parselmouth," Ginny declared.

"I see," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. "How long have you known this?"

"Only since I heard Harry talking to his snake rope a few months ago," Ginny said. "I mean, I knew that I'd been ordering the basilisk around when … when…"

"We know when, Ginny," McGonagall said with surprising gentleness.

Ginny managed a wry smile. "Yeah, I guess there weren't too many occasions when that happened." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry; I should have said something sooner."

"I quite understand, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Something of that sort might be a bit of a shock. You should talk about it to your parents as soon as you get the chance."

"Yes, sir," Ginny said. She sighed with relief. It would be better to tell her parents this in person, rather than by owl. She was glad that Dumbledore agreed with her.

"Is there any further business?" Dumbledore said.

"What about Neville?" Ginny asked. "Are you going to let him in on this?  


"And the twins," Ron added. "I still think they should be included."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will take your advice into consideration," he said. "But I will have to withhold making a decision just yet."

"Sirius, what are you using for a wand?" Harry asked.

"Something that I found in a junk shop," Sirius sighed. "I told the witch who worked there that I wanted something to power some lighting charms so my dear old grandfather wouldn't have to use candles or his wand. I rather left her with the impression I was afraid the old boy would burn the house down." He sighed. "She gave me the best two wands that she had, but they're dodgy." He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Can't you fix them?" Ginny asked.

"It's tricky," Remus said. "They should really be looked at by a professional. However, that would raise a lot of questions, because it's usually cheaper to buy a new wand instead of fixing the old one."

"I have something that's probably better," Harry said. "We found an old wand of my mum's in her trunk." 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"It really was in the trunk," Harry protested the unspoken skepticism. "I owled Mr. Ollivander about it and he came to have a look. He said it would be cheaper to buy a new one, but he thinks I'm having it fixed for sentimental reasons."

Sirius looked rather stunned. "You would trust me with your mother's wand?" he asked.

Harry just looked at him.

"Thank the boy, Sirius," Remus chided.

"Thank you," Sirius said.

"We never did get an explanation as to how Mr. Potter managed to get to the Hogwarts Express," McGonagall pointed out.

Harry took a deep breath and gave a brief overview of how his August had gone. "One of the spectators was a retired Ministry solicitor," Harry said. "He took up my cause forced Fudge to let me go." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He was convinced that I was telling the truth about Sirius being innocent."

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, that's one more on our side, and without us having to make an overt move against the Minister."

"Anybody we know?" Remus asked.

Harry looked his godfather in the eye. "Sirius, your father knows that you are innocent."

Sirius opened his mouth a few times. Then he had to go look out a window. Harry could imagine what was going through his godfather's mind. He walked over to him and also looked out the window. He didn't say anything, but he stood close enough so that his shoulder pressed against Sirius' arm.

"And now, since we don't have any further business, I suggest that we leave Harry and his godfather alone to discuss their family business." Dumbledore rose and led the way out of his office. "Would anybody care to join me in a kitchen raid?" he asked. "I hear the House-elves want somebody to test their latest pudding. It's called a Pumpkin Float."

*** Author's Notes ***

'Tell a hawk from a handsaw' yet more Shakespeare.

Witherwing: based on the novel by DavidJarrett, which in turn was based on the folktale about the girl whose seven brothers were transformed into swans (or sometimes ravens). She had to weave shirts for them, usually from nettles, and she wasn't permitted to speak while she did so. She had to put the shirts on them before they were finished, so the youngest brother was stuck with a swan's wing (or raven's wing) for the rest of his life.

Boris Bad-enough: A reference to the villain in Rocky and Bullwinkle. (Which originally was a play on the novel Boris Godunov by Alexander Pushkin, which was based on a historic person… will this train of thought never derail?)

A Pumpkin Float is made by pouring Pumpkin Fizz over ice cream. In the absence of Pumpkin Fizz, try soda over pumpkin flavored ice cream. In the absence of pumpkin flavored ice cream, pour chocolate syrup over vanilla ice cream, pour in the soda water and CALL it a Pumpkin Float.

****

While I have your attention, I have a few predictions for Book Five. Since the book will be out in a few days, we'll see how sharp my inner eye is.

One: Winky will go bad. (I wanted to do that in this story, but I couldn't make it work in the amount of time that I had. Besides, I thought it was too similar to my Cressida Opal plotline.) You heard it hear first!

Two: The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will have a Deep, Dark Secret. (Don't they all?) I'm hoping this secret will be that he is really Sirius Black in disguise. (Unless it's a female Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, in which case it will be Arabella Figg.)

Three: Ron WILL wind up as Keeper for the Gryffindor House Team.

Four: Ron and Hermione will kiss.

Five: NO VOLDEMORT! He's still recuperating from coming back from the dead.

Six: Harry will talk to one or more snakes. He hasn't used that talent since Book Two and it's about time he did.

Seven: Gryffindor will take the Quidditch Cup.

Eight: Fleur + Bill.

Nine: Snape will be revealed as the spy who told Dumbledore that Voldemort was after the Potters.

Ten: I WILL LOVE THIS BOOK!

Happy Reading!


	24. Quidditch, Shopping and Other Disasters

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Chapter 24: Quidditch, Shopping and Other Disasters

Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor:

Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The crowd roared. Harry adjusted his old glasses and kicked off. (He still wasn't used to his new glasses and he didn't want to risk missing the Snitch.) His pre-game jitters fell away as he ascended. He reached the apogee of his flight several minutes before the other players were in position and began to scrutinize the Quidditch Pitch for a glimmer of gold. As he looked, he adjusted the canary yellow armband that both teams had donned in honor of Cedric Diggory.

Below him, he could hear the cheers from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw supporters, the polite applause from the Hufflepuffs and the jeers from the Slytherins. This early in the season, it didn't make much difference to the Hufflepuffs or the Slytherin who won. The Hufflepuffs, touched by the armbands, would applaud both teams. The Slytherins just liked to boo. 

Harry caught a flash of color, blue, not gold, out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly to look at the Ravenclaw seeker. Cho Chang soared past and grinned a challenge at him. Harry raised an eyebrow, and then turned away. He was glad to see Cho smiling again, but that didn't mean he was going to let her distract him. Speaking of distractions…

He shifted his weight forward and plummeted at the Ravenclaw keeper like a starving hawk. Startled, the Keeper jerked out of the way, narrowly missing colliding with Cho, who had made the mistake of following Harry.

The Gryffindors whooped and catcalled at the Ravenclaws for falling for that old trick. The Ravenclaws groaned and protested good-naturedly. The Slytherins booed, of course. Harry whipped around the pitch, pleased with himself. The wind whipped his fringe from his forehead and brought color to his face. He looked over his shoulder; Cho was pursuing him. Maybe her strategy for the game was to mark him and try to snatch the Snitch from under his nose.

Harry grinned and urged his Firebolt to greater speeds. Captain Angelina Johnson shouted something at him, but Harry couldn't make out the words. Cho was falling behind. Gleefully, Harry pushed his Firebolt even harder. Now more people were yelling at him. He could make out the Weasley twins' voices from a short distance down the pitch, and Hagrid's bellow from the long distance down below. He looked around for Cho, and caught a quick glimpse of her smile before she changed direction. 

Harry frowned and started to slow… then reared back desperately as a Bludger scraped past his nose. Harry let the Firebolt drop and ducked his head. He was barely in time; the second Bludger ruffled his hair as he ducked under it. He looped one of the Ravenclaw beaters, and then blasted past the other as he gained altitude. Easier to look for the Snitch from up here. Easier to avoid the Bludgers as well.

He looked around for Cho, and saw Katie Bell toss the Quaffle though the Ravenclaw goal. He grinned; the Ravenclaw Beaters had paid for their sortie at him. Cho, far below him, was busy searching for the Golden Snitch. Harry tried to drag his mind back to his work, but was distracted by the Weasleys twin's retaliation against the Ravenclaw beaters.

George herded one Bludger towards Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Captain. Beater Bill Harnett swooped up to intercept, only to have Fred bat the second Bludger at him. Lisa Turpin, one of the Ravenclaw Chasers, tried to take advantage of the battle of the Beaters to grab the Quaffle and sail over to the Gryffindor goals. Only a frantic effort by Gryffindor's new keeper, Ron Weasley, prevented Ravenclaw from scoring.

Angelina Johnson pounced, snagging the Quaffle and shooting towards the Ravenclaw goal posts. Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw Keeper, darted up to block. Seconds later, he was forced to dodge out of the way when Fred smashed a Bludger past his ear. Angelina took advantage the opportunity.

Harry checked the scoreboard and was startled to see it stood at 40-10, Gryffindor. Obviously, this was going to be a high scoring game… unless he caught the Snitch quickly. He looked around and finally spotted a glitter of gold from near the Ravenclaw goal posts. He kicked the Firebolt forward and closed the distance quickly.

Far below, a frustrated Cho Chang tried to gain ground. However, Harry, with a superior broom and half a minute's head start, wasn't to be caught. Well, not by the Ravenclaw Seeker, anyway. Harry was fast approaching the Golden Snitch when something collided with the back of his broom, sending him spinning off course.

For a sickening moment, Harry was afraid he was going to crash into the stands. He fought for altitude, trying desperately to right himself and get back after the Snitch before Cho caught it. He finally managed to regain control just before he went out of bounds. Fearfully, he looked around, but Cho had been diverted by George while Fred had gone after Harnett. 

Harry cast a quick glance at the back of his broom, wondering if the Bludger had damaged his pride and joy. Seeing no damage, he turned his attention back to searching for the Snitch.

Angelina soared towards him. "Keep an eye out for those Bludgers!" was the gist of what she had bellowed at him. Harry blushed at her actual wording and hoped that none of the professors had heard. Many house points would go missing if they had.

He swooped around the perimeter of the pitch, keeping a wary eye out for the Snitch, the Bludgers and various other airborne obstacles. He noted that Cho was orbiting almost directly opposite him. As he approached the Ravenclaw goals, he noticed a glitter in his peripheral vision and he turned his head in surprise. The shimmer was coming from outside the boundaries of the pitch. The Golden Snitch was charmed to stay within the boundaries of the pitch, so what was glittering? This question was quickly shelved in favor of a more pressing one. There was a turbulence in the air near the Ravenclaw goal posts. Something -- clouds? Smoke? -- was billowing out of nowhere. Eyeing growing darkness warily, Harry drew back. 

Frowning, Madam Hooch pulled her wand, kicked off and headed for the disturbance. She had a feeling this wasn't just a student prank.

Screams erupted from below as the sky split open and spat out a dragon. 

The spectators took to their heels. Hooch knew she didn't have a chance, but she sped up, determined to buy the students some time. Harry had just enough time to register what was going on when the dragon pounced, snatching him up in its talons like an owl grabbing a mouse.

The difference between Ravenclaws and Gryffindors became immediately apparent. The Gryffindors, noted for courage, charged, the Ravenclaws, noted for wisdom, retreated. Alicia Spinnet, who had been on the verge of scoring, arrived first and heaved the Quaffle at the nearest dragon eye.

The dragon started to wheel around with its captive when the Quaffle struck it in its left eye. The intelligent thing to do would have been to continue back through the hole in sky. Western dragons weren't noted for intelligence.

The dragon whirled and spat fire towards the space Alicia had occupied moments ago. Unaware that it had missed its target, it shook its head and pawed at its face in an attempt to dislodge the Quaffle. Soon it had other worries as the Weasley twins smashed the Bludgers at its good eye.

The Ravenclaw team passed Madame Hooch on their way down. It would have been safer for them simply to fly back to the castle. However, they weren't merely fleeing; they were planning. The Chasers and Cho handed over their brooms to those more able to battle a dragon. Within moments, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick were shooting towards the conflict.

Terry Boot landed next to Bill Weasley a few minutes later, and then the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was on his way.

The Ravenclaw Beaters had another goal in mind. Flying up to the uppermost seats, they rendezvoused with Hogwarts' groundkeeper.

Harry squirmed, but could not fly free. The dragon's talons tightened uncomfortably, but he was not injured. Either the dragon was incompetent or whoever had sent it wanted him alive. The latter thought was not comforting, as it didn't take a Ravenclaw prefect to work out who was behind this. He could see his crazy teammates as they buzzed the dragon, distracting it from its escape route.

"Get out of here!" he howled. "Get to safety!" He beat his fist against the talon in frustration over his friends' courage. Why couldn't they be more like the Ravenclaws? He yanked his wand from his robes and tried to think of a hex that would damage a dragon and not get him killed. The strongest spell he knew was the Patronus Charm, but he didn't think it would work, especially since he couldn't come up with a happy memory just then. Jelly legs was the next thing to come to mind, as that might get the dragon to release him, but repeated tries failed to make even one of the toes go soft.

Fred wasn't ignoring Harry. He wasn't about to heed the younger boy's orders, of course. However, Harry's howls were allowing Fred to gauge exactly where the captive was. This was going to come in handy in about… three minutes.

He bellowed at Angelina. When he caught her attention, he tossed her his club. He reached into his robe, wishing he had something a little more powerful. What he had would have to do. He reached into his inner pocket and extracted his wand and a bunch of Filibuster fireworks. The best place, he reckoned, would be the eye without the Quaffle in it. The nearest thing a dragon had to a weak spot was its eyes.

He touched his wand to the wicks and heaved. The dragon twitched at just the wrong moment and the fireworks went up a nostril instead. Fred sighed. That's why he was a Beater and not a Chaser, he decided as he yelled. "DUCK!"

The Gryffindors scattered as the fireworks went off. The dragon's nostril was too well protected to be damaged by anything as low powered as Filibuster fireworks. However, Fred had a pessimistic idea of what the dragon's reaction was going to be. He was right. The dragon's sneeze sent fireball billowing towards the Gryffindors. George and Alicia cried out and went spinning to the ground. One of the Bludgers was crisped to ashes.

Fred waved his wand and cursed. "STUPEFY!" It was useless, he knew. It took up to a dozen specially trained wizards working in unison to stupefy a dragon, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. He saw Katie and Angelina struggling to right themselves. He saw McGonagall and Flitwick heading for his brother and Alicia. He saw Harry trying to wiggle loose of the talons. He did not see the dragon's tail come whipping around, nor did he see Snape change directions to dive after him.

The dragon darted at the falling Beater, jaws agape, but just then, there was a shrill whistle near its ear. It flattened its ears in pain and snapped its head around to spit fire. Madam Hooch dodged easily and let off another blast of her referee's whistle. The dragon hadn't even noticed her attempts to hex it, so she had resorted to old-fashioned diversion tactics.

Bill came up, debating the wisdom of hitting the dragon with a _Conjunctivitis curse._ He shook his head. According to Charlie, that had put the one dragon in the Tri-Wizard Tournament in such agony that she had smashed half of her eggs. If this thing reacted to pain by squeezing its talons, it would squish Harry like he was made of butter. This gave Bill an idea.

"_Expecto Arachibutyro_!"

The dragon snapped at Hooch, only to get a mouthful of something sticky and brown.

As the dragon fought to clear its mouth, Hooch turned to Bill Weasley. "What is that stuff?" she bellowed.

"It's a potion designed to stick to the roof on the mouth. It was invented by Muggles to keep small children from whinging," Bill bellowed back. "Charlie uses it on irritated dragons all the time!"

"What's it called?"

"Peanut butter!"

While Hooch and Bill were keeping the dragon off-balance, Angelina was taking stock of the situation. She noted that three of her teammates were out of the fight. Harry was still struggling to get free. Teachers were coming, but they were distracted by falling Gryffindors, so she needed to buy them some time. She also needed to get Harry out of that thing's clutches. Also on her to do list was to get out of this fight alive, but that was rather far down in her priorities.

She whacked the remaining Bludger at the Dragon's good eye. The dragon snared it with its tongue and swallowed it. "Ah, that's why I'm a Chaser, not a Beater," Angelina decided. She heard Harry's attempts to hex the dragon with Jelly Legs and frowned. The curse would make the legs go soft and… limp. She nodded and swooped around the dragon, rounding up Katie, Ron, Bill and Madam Hooch as she did so.

"On THREE, everybody do Jelly Legs!" she ordered. "At the dragon's thumb!" She made a rude gesture at the talon that she meant. "Together now… ONE… TWO… THREE!"

Six Jelly Leg hexes flew together and just managed to loosen the muscles of the one talon. Harry pushed his way clear with strength born of desperation. Any moment now, the dragon was going to pick up on its exit cue and Harry did not want to find out where that hole in the sky went. 

"JUMP! JUMP!"

Even without his teammates bellows, Harry realized that he didn't have any choice. He flung himself from the dragon's grasp just as the sextuple curse wore off. The jellied talon renewed its grip, and caught the back of Harry's Quidditch robe. Harry twisted and flailed and managed to slide his right arm out of its sleeve. Then his fall was arrested abruptly. Pain shot through his left arm, then numbness set in from where something -- the armband! -- had a death grip. Harry yelped and kicked, but the armband was too tight to slide off.

The good thing about Harry's new predicament is that it gave the teachers and the remaining students a clear line of fire at the dragon. Even so, they still didn't have enough firepower to stun the dragon. All their combined curses managed to do was to do was convince the dragon to flee. As he was swung around like a rag doll, Harry caught a glimpse of the rift that the dragon had come through. The only person between the dragon and escape was tiny Professor Flitwick. 

The dragon shot forward. "NO!" Harry tried desperately to come up with a happy memory so he could summon his Patronus. Unfortunately, the thought of Flitwick getting fried was not exactly conducive to happy thoughts. He tried anyway. 

"_Expecto Patronum_!" A silver mist shot out from the end of his wand. Not exactly the desired result, but it caused the dragon to hesitate briefly. When the mist cleared, Harry and the dragon could no longer see Prof. Flitwick. Instead, they saw two rifts in the sky.

The dragon backwinged in confusion. Then growled deep in its throat and spat out a stream of fire. The rift on the right dissolved immediately. The dragon twisted and headed for the real hole, when the last combatants entered the fray.

Rubeus Hagrid was a giant of a man… literally. He was much too heavy for one broom to carry, which is why both Ravenclaw Beaters had surrendered their brooms to him. Hagrid had never really mastered the art of flying a broom, which made trying to maneuver with a broom under each arm extremely awkward. Through sheer stubbornness, however, Hagrid managed to get the drop on the dragon, again, literally. Landing on the dragon's neck, Hagrid grabbed an ear and yanked the dragon's head around and down.

"Stop that! Put him DOWN!" bellowed Hagrid, reinforcing his command with a smack to the back of the dragon's head.

The dragon, with its head held at an awkward angle, began spiraling downward. All but two of the other combatants flew up to add the weight of their curses to Hagrid's muscle.

Ron and Flitwick darted underneath the dragon. Flitwick barked out something Harry didn't catch, but the armband and his left sleeve began to unravel. He dropped like a rock.

Ron dived and snagged the back of Harry's still dissolving robe. He almost managed to get to the ground before Harry's cloak fell apart and sent Harry plummeting to the grassy field.

***

Fred opened his eyes and looked up. Prof. Severus Snape sneered down at him. "Typical Gryffindor," he said. "Ran right into that one."

"You saved my life?" Fred asked groggily.

"Yes," Snape said sourly.

The Potions master and the practical joker glared at each other for a few moments before Fred broke the silence. "I won't tell if you don't," he said. 

"Deal," Snape agreed. 

***

Someone was bellowing Harry's name. In fact, several people were calling him, loudly, which made his head ache. Harry opened his eyes to find his face buried in mud and grass. His glasses, a few inches in front of his face, where snapped in half, and a trickle of blood down the bridge of his nose let him know he had at least one injury. A small part of his brain felt relief that he hadn't broken his new glasses.

"Harry?" Ron's worried voice was followed by a light touch on Harry's back.

Harry yelped in pain. Okay, that was two confirmed injuries.

"Sorry."

Harry tried to push himself out of the grass, only to find that his left arm wasn't cooperating. That brought the tally up to three confirmed injuries.

Ron helped him to sit. "So, what's the score?" Harry said, looking around and rubbing his arm. 

George and Alicia were sitting up, looking scorched and dazed and inclined to comfort each other. Not wanting to see that, Harry pulled his gaze around. Angelina and Katie were crouched next to Fred, who was looking rather sour faced about something. 

"Do lay still, Potter." McGonagall's voice, unexpected as it was, made Harry jump. "Sorry," she said. 

"What happened with the dragon? Is everybody all right?" Harry asked anxiously.

"You and Hagrid seemed to have the worse injuries, Potter," McGonagall said. "But we'll be taking you all up to the hospital wing. Now, lie back and relax, you might have a concussion."

"Hagrid? How did Hagrid get injured?" Harry resisted Ron's attempts to make him lie down.

"The Ravenclaws handed over their brooms to the teachers," Ron explained. "Hagrid needed two of them, but managed to get up to the dragon and pound some sense into it. After you pulled free, the dragon scarpered. The gate or whatever it was closed as soon as the dragon went back inside." Ron said. "Hagrid had to jump for it. I think he hurt his leg."

"Indeed, he did," McGonagall said. "He landed awkwardly, but his main concern is for you, Potter."

McGonagall pointed to where Dumbledore, Hooch, and Flitwick were hovering around Hagrid. Hagrid was complaining loudly and trying to shrug off his attendants.

"Hagrid?" Harry called, getting the giant's attention. 

"You all righ' there, Harry?" Hagrid asked anxiously.

"I'll live," Harry said.

Hagrid nodded and settled back on the grass. Harry, still resisting Ron and McGonagall's attempts to make him lie down, looked toward the castle. The fight hadn't even lasted long enough for the fleeing students to get inside. Some of them had stopped fleeing, now that the battle was over. The teachers who hadn't been in the fight had their hands full trying to herd the students into the castle.

Several of the Gryffindors eluded the roundup and were headed back. At this distance, without his glasses, Harry could only positively identify Ginny's bright red hair. He was certain, however, that Hermione was headed back as well. He sighed and gave in to Ron and Prof. McGonagall's insistence that he lie down. 

"Do you think this means we have to cancel Quidditch?" Ron was saying unhappily.

McGonagall shook her head. "It depends on how the dragon managed to get onto the grounds, Weasley," she said. "Until then, we'll just have to hope for the best."

There was a slight flutter next to Harry's right ear. Absently, he raised his hand and the Snitch flew into it. "Maybe it's just me that needs to stop playing," he said, staring gloomily at the Snitch as if it would reveal the future to him.

"That, too, remains to be seen," Dumbledore spoke from beside them, causing all three to jump. "But whatever that decision is, I think it's safe to say we have won this match."

After Match (1):

"What was that hole in the sky, anyway?" Angelina asked.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hooch and Flitwick were holding a meeting in the Hospital Wing. Both Quidditch teams were there, as well as some of the spectators.

"It's called a wyrmhole," Dumbledore explained. "They were once used for transportation before Apparating became commonplace." He frowned. "The trouble with them is that they need a focus on either side. We must find the object that was used as a focus on this end, or we might wind up with another unwelcome visit."

"Find the object?" Hermione said. "So, it's like a Portkey? Anything could be used for it?"

"Exactly," Cho said. "We've been studying that charm this year. The object could be any size or shape. It will be very difficult to track it down."

"The Snitch," Harry said. 

Everybody turned to look at him.

"It flew out of bounds," Harry explained before anybody could ask. "I saw it out of the corner of my eye."

"That doesn't make sense," Hermione said. "How could anybody sabotage the Snitch?"

"By sending the school a new set of Quaffle balls," Madam Hooch said. She had a disgusted look on her face. "Moody would be ashamed of me. I didn't even think twice when an anonymous donor sent us a free Quidditch set. I was too grateful."

"I see," Dumbledore said. He nodded. "It's not your fault, Xiamara," he said. "Let's check it out straight away."

The Snitch had indeed been tampered with, they discovered. Dumbledore and McGonagall began working on a set of procedures to check suspicious gifts (such as expensive brooms and free Quaffle sets).

"Well, at least this means that Quidditch isn't canceled," Ron observed.

Confusions of an Animagus:

Harry wondered if he could switch into cat form and sneak out past Madam Pomfrey. He sighed. It wouldn't work. McGonagall knew what his Animagus form looked like. He and Ron had been practicing under her watchful eye. The blueprint that Nicely had put into their brains was obviously a good tool; both the Abyssinian and the long-eared owl came easily to them.

He wondered if Hermione and Ginny would find it as easy. McGonagall was planning to give Hermione and Ginny their first practical lesson soon. Both of them had passed the terrible two-hour test on the theory and possible consequences of Animal Transfiguration. He wondered when they'd get their lesson, now that he was back in the Hospital Wing.

He should have known better. As soon as regular visiting hours (and Prowlery hours) were over, McGonagall was there with Ron, Ginny and Hermione in tow.

"Today will be an easy lesson," McGonagall said. "Potter needs rest, so we'll concentrate on finding what Miss Granger and Miss Weasley's animal forms will be.

McGonagall produced opened the case she'd brought in and brought out a mirror and a stand. She set it up on Harry's bedside table and pulled the table away from Harry's bed.

"Here, what you'll need to do is stare into the mirror and let your mind go blank," McGonagall said.

Ron sniggered.

"What?" Hermione demanded.

"That'll be something new for you," Ron said, grinning.

Hermione glared and Ron backed off. 

"Maybe Ginny should go first," Harry said. 

Hermione switched her glare to him.

"Hermione seems a tad upset," Harry couldn't help adding.

Hermione sighed. Then gestured Ginny to the mirror. "After you," she said.

"Thank you," Ginny replied with a small curtsey. She looked into the mirror and tried not to think of anything.

Harry opened Nicely up and flipped past the scorched first chapter. :_I hope she turns into a worm_: Nicely subscripted.

"Shh," Harry whispered automatically.

After a few minutes, Ginny's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, it's a snake!" Then her eyes went wider still. "A snake with wings?"

"A Wyvern," McGonagall said musingly. "Interesting. Most Animagi have rather inconspicuous forms, like Potter's cat or your brother's owl."

"My owl will be totally brill at spying," Ron said happily. "Think of it, you could send me in with a message and I can listen while I'm waiting for a reply! Or I could hide outside people's windows."

"What makes you think that they wouldn't notice you?" Hermione said. "They might be fooled at first, but they might connect the long-eared owl with you after a while."

"That's another cool thing," Ron said. "Did you know that long-eared owls in the wild actually use camouflage? I mean, they stretch themselves out and pretend to be branches. If that's what a wild owl can do, think of what I could pull off!"

McGonagall looked as if she might smile in a second. "Really, you've been reading up on long-eared owls," she said approvingly. "Five points to Gryffindor for taking this seriously."

Ron beamed at her.

"I'm a snake," Ginny sighed.

"Cheer up, Ginny," Ron said. "At least you'll have something to talk to Harry about."

Harry grinned. "I can practice my Parseltongue on something besides my snake rope," he added.

Ginny made a wry face. "I don't need to turn into a snake to practice Parseltongue," she reminded him.

"You two should probably practice that, it could come in handy," Hermione said.

"That will have to be a different class," McGonagall said. "Miss Granger, it's your turn." McGonagall gestured to the mirror.

Hermione took a deep breath and studied the mirror. She obviously made an effort to clear her mind. Minutes dragged past. Suddenly Hermione leaned closer to the mirror, and burst into flames.

Hermione let out a startled squawk and sat down, hard. 

"_Aqueous_!"

The flames went out immediately. Seconds after the flames went out; Hermione was liberally soaked as all four of the witnesses conjured water out of their wands.

None of them noticed Nicely print up, : _Ha, Ha! Serves you right!_ :

"Oh, my," Hermione said. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," Professor McGonagall said. "However, I intend to get to the bottom of this."

Serving McGonagall's Detention:

McGonagall decided that Harry could serve his detentions while he was in the Hospital Wing. This is why Harry wound up assisting McGonagall by marking First Year exams. Harry expected to be hours at it, because he would have to keep referring to the textbook for the answers. However, he got some unexpected help when Dusty showed up and gave him tips on where to find the answers.

This time the ghost appeared to be in his late teens.

"I'd just tell you, but I expect Minerva will want you to note where the answer is to be found on the test papers," Dusty told him. "That's how I would do it."

McGonagall raised her eyebrow when she came to check and found that Harry had already finished. However, she couldn't deny that he'd done a good job. "Five points to Gryffindor," she said with a nod.

Millicent Gets Detention:

The good part about being hospitalized was he did not have to go the dungeons for Potions. The bad part was that Snape and Malfoy seemed to horde all their ill will for when he returned. Harry expected the first Potions class after being released to be horrible. Sure enough, Malfoy started harassing them before they even got inside the classroom.

"Potter, you have no right to play Quidditch when you could be endangering other students!" the blond boy hissed. "You should think of somebody besides yourself, sometime."

Before Harry could respond, somebody else spoke up.

"That's a hot one coming from you, you egocentric git."

Everybody's head jerked around when Millicent Bulstrode spoke up.

"Honestly, Bulstrode, a person would think that you _liked_ Potter," sneered Draco.

The other Slytherins sniggered.

Millicent turned red.

If Draco had been the least bit observant, he would have noticed that her face wasn't full of shame, but fury. Instead, he just continued. "Imagine that, ugly old golem-girl has fallen for a Gryffindor!"

"It's not like there are any Slytherin boys in this class that are worth mooning over," Millicent said coldly. "And it's funny that you should use the words 'honestly' and 'think' in the same sentence. I wouldn't have thought they were in your vocabulary."

Malfoy gaped at her. Then his pale face took on some color and he shoved his face at Millicent. "Listen, you oversized cow…" was as far as he got before Millicent punched him in the nose.

The Gryffindors gasped, and then cheered.

Hermione moved forward. "Ten points from Slytherin," she said.

"Really, Miss Granger, abusing your power again? I shall take this up with your Head of House," came Snape's oily tones.

"Sir, she punched a fellow student in the face," Hermione said coolly. "_The_ _Prefect Handbook_ clearly states that deducting points in such a case is mandatory. I did take the minimum number of points as Miss Bulstrode was clearly provoked."

Snape strode into the room, dark eyes raking the students. "What happened?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Snape held up a hand to forestall her. "Not from you! I want an unbiased account!"

"Malfoy insulted her," Blaise Zabini spoke up. "When she insulted him back, he stuck his face in hers and called her a cow."

Malfoy glared over his bloody handkerchief.

"Miss Bulstrode, you have detention," Snape growled. "Malfoy, get yourself up to the Hospital Wing. He glared at Hermione.

Hermione lifted her chin and gave him a cool look in return. "I'm sorry if you feel I was out of line," she said politely. "Please feel free to take up my behavior with Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore at any time."

Having no suitably cutting response to this, Snape just whirled and led the way back into the Potions classroom. He assigned Millicent to work with Neville, apparently in the belief she would find this objectionable.

However, they actually made a good team. Without Malfoy there to disrupt class, the Gryffindors were able to complete their potions in peace and the only cauldron that was melted was Pansy's. She'd been too busy supervising Goyle and Crabbe to pay proper attention to her own work.

Harry left Potions in a good mood for once.

"I could really learn to like Millicent," Ron said. His expression was as dreamy as the Day of the Incredible Bouncing Ferret.

"Yeah," Neville said dreamily. "I think I could, too."

After putting their books back in their rooms, the Gryffindors headed down to lunch. Ron waited for Hermione in the common room.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Erm, he went to save us a seat," Ron said. He took a deep breath. "So, erm, you were brilliant in Potions today, the way you faced down Snape."

"Thank you," Hermione said. She took a deep breath. Here was her chance! "Erm, what are you going to the Fancy Dress Party as?"

Ron grinned. "Harry's wearing those awful robes that the twins got him. Ginny's wearing her old dress robes. So I got that maroon nightmare out of the bottom of my trunk and decorated it with spangles and stuff. It's not a great costume, but it will compete with Harry for title of Eyesore of the Evening."

Hermione laughed.

"What are you going as?" Ron asked.

"I'm borrowing Harry's Quidditch robes," Hermione said, grinning.

"He's too generous, that one," Ron shook his head. "He'll be lending you his Firebolt next."

It was the perfect opening. "Maybe he'll lend me his best friend, instead," Hermione said.

Ron looked at her wide-eyed. "Huh?"

"Would you like to go to the party with me?" Hermione asked.

Ron gaped for a few minutes. "I'd love to," he said. Then, because it was the perfect moment, he leaned forward and kissed her.

When they pulled back, Hermione was starry-eyed. "Oh, so that's why everybody raves about flying," she said.

"Hermione, you're on the ground," Ron said.

"That's what you think," Hermione said, smiling.

The Fancy Dress Party:

The Hallowe'en party was almost anti-climatic. There were no trolls barging in from the basement. No petrified cats. No escaped convict slashing up the portraits. No delegations of foreign students. Just fountains flowing with pumpkin juice, tables laden with good food, and a room full of chattering students. 

Fred and George did their best to cause a stir by feigning heart attacks when Harry and Ginny walked in arm in arm. However, too many people thought they were reacting to Harry's robes rather than Ginny's costume.

The main shock of the evening was the fact that a Gryffindor (Neville) came dressed as a Slytherin. His date (Millicent) came dressed as a Gryffindor. They won the award for the most daring costume. Ron won for ugliest costume. Harry won the award for "Costume most likely to be plagiarized by the Headmaster."

Cho Chang won for most beautiful costume. She came in an elaborate Empress costume, and affair of stiff silk brocade and glittering jewels. Her elaborate headdress must have taken an hour to set up.

Everybody stared at her, so Ginny tried not to feel jealous because Harry stared, too. Fortunately, Malfoy picked the moment after Cho won her award to drift over and try to start a fight.

Ginny never thought she'd be glad Malfoy was such a git. He was dressed as an executioner, which everybody agreed deserved to win for 'most appropriate.'

"You're lucky that your game was against those loser Ravenclaws," Malfoy sneered. "If you'd been playing against Slytherin, it would have been a slaughter."

Just then, the dance music started up and everyone was distracted by the sight of George Weasley, dressed as Dumbledore, waltzing by with Prof. McGonagall, who was dressed in a Quidditch uniform.

Every drifted away from Malfoy and he didn't try to follow. 

Harry danced the first dance with Ginny and did his best not to stomp her feet black and blue. Then he begged off dancing, saying he was tired. "You go ahead," he said. "I don't mind."

He was perfectly content to just sit and look at the costumes. Some of them were quite eye-catching and he asked himself how they'd done that. Himself would immediately answer, "Magic, duh."

Ginny looked nice in her white robes and silvery wings. There was a glowing halo over her head that caused her brothers to shake their heads every time they looked in her direction. She was a good dancer, too.

Ron seemed to dance with everybody. "Where'd he learn to dance like that?" he wondered.

"You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you," Ginny answered. She came down to sit with him after dancing with Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Go ahead," Harry invited. 

"From Pansy Parkinson. The Honey Badgers had a few do's during August and she taught us both the latest dances."

Harry shook his head. "I don't get her. How come she's nice one minute, then horrible the next?"

Ginny sighed. "She's in love. She'll do anything to win Malfoy's approval." She looked over to where the Slytherins were laughing about something.

She turned back to find Harry studying her worriedly.

"Most girls outgrow that phase," she said, taking a guess as to what was bothering him.

"You wouldn't be mean to somebody just to please me, would you?" Harry asked.

Ginny's first reaction was to say something like _I can't imagine you being deliberately mean to someone for no reason._ She decided that wasn't what Harry wanted to hear. "I try to make up my own mind," she said quietly. "Besides, you're no Malfoy."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Would m'lady care for another goblet of pumpkin juice?"

"Why, thank you kind sir," Ginny replied. "I would love one."

If Fred and Angelina danced, Ginny didn't see them. However, when they all arrived back at Gryffindor Tower, they looked like they'd had a good time. 

Gryffindor vs. Slytherin:

November passed quietly. The Prowlers were too busy revising to get into trouble. Potions had amazingly become more bearable. With Neville and Millicent as partners, there were fewer distracting explosions. Even Snape couldn't complain about anything except the lack of opportunities to take points away from Gryffindor.

Then came the highly anticipated. Gryffindor / Slytherin Match.

As Malfoy had predicted, the game was a slaughter. The Slytherin players were very talented. However, they were also very disorganized. Goyle and Crabbe, the new Slytherin Beaters, were too focused on protecting their Seeker to pay much attention to their Chasers. As Harry had found out in his second year, having two Beaters tagging along made it virtually impossible to spot the Snitch.

After yelling himself red in the face, Malfoy managed to send Goyle off so that he only had to deal with one bodyguard.

Goyle demonstrated the strength of his arm and the deadliness of his aim mere minutes after that when he knocked the Keeper unconscious. He also demonstrated his complete lack of thought, because he knocked out the _Slytherin_ Keeper.

Terrance Higgs, formerly the Slytherin Seeker, demonstrated his skills as a Chaser and strategist by scoring twice on Ron Weasley while he was distracted by Goyle's idiocy. Higgs also managed to lure the Bludgers into attacking Angelina so he could steal the ball and score again.

Higgs' two goals didn't help much. The Keeperless goalposts drew the Gryffindor Chasers like flowers attract butterflies and they managed to wrack up enough goals to ensure Gryffindor's victory even if Malfoy had managed to get to the Snitch.

Malfoy took a time out to explain, in very simple terms why Goyle had to act as Keeper for the rest of the game. He also explained, in very _graphic_ terms, what would happen to Goyle if Gryffindor scored another goal.

Fortunately for Goyle, he didn't have to learn if Malfoy was bluffing or not. No sooner had play resumed that Harry spotted the Snitch fluttering just under Madam Hooch.

"Excuse me," Harry said politely as he looped the Quidditch Coach and nabbed the Snitch.

The whistle blew and Harry headed across the pitch to modestly (well, mostly modestly) accept the congratulations of his team.

After Match (2):

Harry woke up in the Hospital Wing with a headache and a very over used sense of déjà vu.

"Wha' happened?" he asked.

"You were hit by a Bludger," Olivia Guppy said. 

"You mean one of those idiot Slytherin Beaters actually nailed me when I wasn't looking?"  


"Actually, it was Mr. Malfoy who hit you," Nurse Guppy said. "The headmaster was rather upset with him, as was his Head of House."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Snape will be annoyed because I'm still alive."

"Don't talk like that!" Nurse Guppy was sincerely shocked. "Professor Snape is a nice man. Sort of. Well, once you get underneath all the layers of grumpiness. I think. Maybe."

Harry had to grin at that.

Millicent Serves Detention:

The night after Slytherin's humiliation was when Snape remembered that Millicent had to serve detention. He sent her to the Hospital Wing to have her clean out bedpans. For some reason, he thought that making her do the job she'd done during the summer would be somehow extra abhorrent. He couldn't comprehend that even such a disgusting chore would have its upside.

It wasn't in the Slytherin dungeons. Not all of the Slytherins thought that Millicent was a turncoat for dating a Gryffindor. Nor did all of them think she was an idiot for dating Neville Longbottom. However, several of them did, and they went out of their way to make their dislike known.

Not that Millicent cared much. She wasn't in love with Neville by any means. However, he was nice to her and that was all she wanted for now.

She finished her chores and made sure that her hands were clean. When she looked around, Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. So Millicent headed for the curtains around Harry's bed. Then she backtracked and washed her hands again.

She didn't know what she intended to do. She just wanted to look at him. Maybe touch him? She stood and stared. He really wasn't much to look at, she tried to tell herself. He was short and skinny with plain features that were usually hidden behind his new glasses. Herself didn't listen. So she just stared. His black hair glistened in the indirect lighting. She reached out, and then curled her hand into a fist.

A snort made her jump.

"You think he's ever going to notice you?" Pansy sneered. "Are you really stupid enough to think that perfect Saint Potter would ever pay any attention to a nobody Slytherin like you? Even if you are shagging one of his roommates, you'll never be anything more than an ugly Slytherin to him."

"He was polite in the hospital," Millicent said. She was surprised how calm her voice sounded.

"Yeah, he was sick and lonely," snorted Pansy.

"He had plenty of friends there," Millicent reminded her. "He didn't have to be nice to me. It's not like _my_ father was his surgeon."

"You're such a loser, Bulstrode," Pansy said. "Give it up, he'll never love you."

"I know," Millicent said. "I'm not as deluded as you are."

"Me? I'm not interested in that goody-two-shoes!"

"No, you're interested in that loser Malfoy."

"The Malfoys are not losers! They're a great old wizarding family!"

"Right, great old wizarding family. They're very good at what? Politics and inbreeding! It's ironic. All Draco can boast about is his family's accomplishments. Yet, so far, all his family seems to have accomplished is producing Draco. They may as well be so many fancy Hippogriffs."

"Draco has a lot of accomplishments!" Pansy hissed. "He's a prefect! He's Quidditch captain!"

"He hasn't done much as a prefect but bully the younger students," Millicent pointed out. "And his team lost miserably today." She looked down at the blonde girl. "He doesn't love you. He never will. The sad thing is that he may marry you anyway. At least Potter would never do that to me."

Pansy stepped back. "You don't know what you're talking about! Of course, Draco loves me! He's always loved me!" With that, she whirled and left the Hospital Wing.

"Methinks the girl protests too much."

Millicent turned back to Potter and wasn't entirely surprised to see he was awake. "How much did you hear?" She didn't bother to tell him that it was 'The lady protests to much.' Pansy certainly wasn't acting like a lady.

"Something about Draco not loving her, but marrying her anyway," Harry said, sitting up. "And that I'd never do that to you."

"No, I can't imagine you marrying a girl just because your parents approve of her bloodline and bank balance."

"Oh," Harry said. "I guess that's the one advantage of being an orphan." He studied Millicent for a few minutes. "Why does she want him? Is he super nice to her or something?"

"Oh, no," Millicent said. "I have no idea what she sees in him." She shook her head. 

"Millicent, I've been wondering…" Harry trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Why did you fight against the giant chess pieces?"

Millicent debated about telling Harry what it was like to be the Slytherin daughter of a Hufflepuff family. Not that her parents didn't love her, but they did not understand her in the least. The hospital didn't care what House you were in, all they cared about was that you did your job. However, all she said was, "It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Besides, I felt I owed Granger for trying to strangle her that time Lockhart tried to start that dueling club."

"Why _did_ you try to strangle Hermione?" Harry asked.

Millicent made a face. "I was jealous," she explained.

Harry opened his mouth to ask the next question, but Millicent forestalled him. "You don't want to ask that, Potter. Now, go back to sleep," she instructed. "Madam Pomfrey will get upset if she finds you've been awakened. She's fond of you, you know."

"She is? Then why was she always scolding me?" Harry demanded in bewilderment.

Millicent laughed. "Because the only time she sees you is when you've gone and got yourself injured!" She patted Harry on the head, noticing that his hair was a silky as it looked. "Good night, sweet prince," she quoted on her way out the door.

Cho Knows:  


Cho believed Harry when he said that Cedric hadn't suffered. However, she wanted to know the details. She wondered how to go about asking Harry. Being in different houses and different years, their paths didn't cross much. She didn't often see him at meals, and then it would be a case of one of them leaving while the other was arriving.

Quidditch solved that problem. One cold Wednesday in December, the Ravenclaw team arrived at the pitch for their practice to find that Ginny Weasley still practicing maneuvers on the Firebolt with Harry watching from ground.

"She's pretty good," Cho said.

Harry lowered his spyglass, startled. "Oh, hi. Sorry, I lost track of the time. We'll be off then," he said.

Cho looked around. Her male teammates didn't seem to be in a hurry to have Ginny come down. "That's all right," she said. "Harry, I know this isn't the place to talk about it, but when can we talk about… about Cedric?" She gave him a pleading look. "I _have_ to know what happened. If I'm going to have nightmares, I at least want them to be based on the truth, not just the worst thing I imagine."

Harry winced. He knew how she felt. He took in a deep breath. "Of course," he said. It would have been cruel to say 'no.' "I'm not sure when we can get together. I have the Prowlery tonight, plus detention from Dumbledore. I'm not sure when I'll be free."

"Detention, from Dumbledore?" Cho asked. "How'd you manage _that_?"

"It's a gift," Harry said wryly.

Cho surprised both of them by smiling.

"How about this weekend?" she suggested. "I'll buy you lunch in Hogsmeade. There's a teashop next to the bookstore. It's a little more private than The Three Broomsticks. We can talk there."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "All right, then. Lunch it is."

"Thank you, Harry," Cho said as Ginny landed.

"See you," Harry said with a smile. Then he went to join Ginny. 

When Harry reached her, Ginny was surrounded by admirers. Harry wasn't sure if they were admiring Ginny or the Firebolt. Either way, he really didn't like it. He suspected this meant that he _might_ have those feelings for Ginny, but how can you be sure?

Detention with Dumbledore:

"Harry, you would tell me if you had any dreams involving Voldemort, wouldn't you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied as he polished. Until he had to clean them, Harry had thought Dumbledore's collection of gadgets were cool. Now he wished there were less of them.

He stopped to rest for a few minutes when Dusty floated in.

"Well, Red, it looks like you're determined to work the boy to a frazzle," Dusty said.

Dumbledore turned with a jerk. He hadn't been called 'Red' for half a century. "Dusty?" he said.

"Yes," the ghost appeared to be in his twenties now. "I was wondering if you'd indulge me, Red. We spent so much time looking for the Chamber of Secrets, that I would like to see it. Your boy there said he couldn't open it without permission."

"Is that why you've stayed on?" Dumbledore asked.

"I don't know," Dusty asked. "Sometimes I look at what I became and wonder what happened. I think having the Weasley boy ask about getting extra points for finding the Chamber of Secrets jarred something loose." He gave Dumbledore an unreadable look. "Maybe I'll finish that book of mine after all."

He drifted off, leaving Dumbledore looking thoughtful and Harry looking dumbfounded. "Sir? Was that… Professor Binns?"

"Dustine Binns," Dumbledore said. "An unfortunate name, but yes, that's who he was before he became your History of Magic professor." 

Dumbledore dismissed Harry before Harry finished cleaning his instruments. Harry left, remembering the stories that Dusty had told him about how he and 'Red' had used to sneak into the Forbidden Forest to look for unicorns. He wondered how that boy had turned into somebody like Professor Binns.

Hogsmeade Weekend:

"Erm, Harry?" Ron asked Thursday night.

Harry had a good idea of what was coming. He feigned ignorance, though. "Yes, Ron?" he said, not looking up from his Divination homework. They had been told to pick one of the lesser-known branches and do an essay based on it. He had chosen Ailuromancy, divination by the study of cat movement, and the way that Crookshanks and Pixie were wrestling obviously meant that he was going to have a fight with somebody. Alternatively, maybe he was going to have to wrestle with his conscience. Poor conscience, it usually lost.

"About tomorrow," Ron said awkwardly. 

"Hogsmeade, you mean?" Harry asked brightly. _Did Crookshanks going over to jump in Hermione's lap mean that I'm going to start crushing on her_?

"I was wondering what your plans were," Ron's voice was a little higher than normal.

Hermione gently pushed Crookshanks off her lap. 

"I've got it," Harry said. "One of my closest friends is going to reject me soon."

"Huh?" Ron said.

"I'm doing my Divination homework," Harry said. "Ailuromancy. What did you pick?"

"Oh, erm, I haven't yet. Which is Ailuromancy?"

"Cat watching."

"Cool. That's easy enough to do then," Ron looked around just as Crookshanks tried to bribe his way onto Hermione's lap with a large spider.

"Erm, maybe I shouldn't pick the same topic as you, though," Ron added hastily.

"I've got a plan," Harry told him. "I will predict that one of my best friends will reject me. I'll hand it into Professor Trelawney tomorrow. Saturday, you and Hermione will go to Hogsmeade without me. Trelawney will _have_ to give me extra points for an accurate prediction!"

"Oh," Ron eyed him narrowly. "And what will you being doing? Making a play for my sister?"

Harry shook his head. "I have some business to take care of," he said. "Besides, I have to get Hermione a belated birthday present."

"Oh," Ron said, looking both faintly relieved and slightly put out. "I'll keep Hermione busy, then. Shall we meet for lunch?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm having lunch with Cho Chang," he said.

"Oh," a female voice said.

They both twisted around to see Ginny walking away.

Harry stared after her in dismay. Had she been planning on asking him to go to Hogsmeade with her? He looked at Ron, who was frowning at him.

"Lunch with Cho? As in a date?" Ron demanded.

Harry shook his head. "Not like that," he said. "It's just that we need somewhere private to talk about," Harry swallowed. "Cedric."

Ron's eyes went wide. "Oh." He pursed his lips. "I'll explain to Ginny. You know, it's hard to think straight about… things."

"Yeah, thanks, Ron."

Ron hesitated. "So, have you and Ginny, you know, done anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we've just talked is all. I mean, I like her and everything, but I'm not sure if I, you know, _like_ her."

"Is that what you said to her?" Ron asked.

"I'm not sure I was that coherent," Harry said dryly.

Ron grinned faintly. "Don't worry; she's used to interpreting boy talk." Ron wandered off in search of his sister. He reckoned that if Ginny were upset, she would probably go to Hermione. Being a prefect, Hermione was permitted to use the prefects' office. Therefore, he headed directly to the office.

Sure enough, there they both were. Probably talking about what a prat poor Harry was. Ron pulled himself up to his full height, feeling like a knight off to do battle for the honor of his best friend. He took in how good Hermione looked and amended that to second best friend.

"I mean, I knew that he had feelings for her," Ginny said mournfully. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Boys are weird that way," Hermione said. "Maybe he wanted to find a way to let you down gently."

Ron felt a flash of annoyance and he cleared his throat, loudly.

"Yes, Ron? Did you want something?" Hermione asked sternly.

Ron scowled at her. "I'm here to defend Harry's honor from unfounded accusations of consorting with enemy Seekers," he said.

"Huh?"

"He's not dating Cho Chang, so stop thinking that," Ron said.

"Really," Hermione said dryly. "And what do you call going to lunch with her?"

"What do you call going to the Yule Ball with Viktor? How about going to Bulgaria to see Viktor?" Ron shot back.

Hermione turned red and an ugly expression crossed her face. "Ron, I told you, Viktor and I are only friends! When are you going to drop this?"

"Why do you automatically assume the worst of Harry? He never did anything to you! What makes you so sure that Harry having lunch with Cho means that they're dating?"

Hermione gaped at him.

"I mean, if you can't believe that it's possible for a boy and girl to do anything together without them being 'an item' then why should I believe that you and Viktor are just friends?"

Ginny stood up. "Oh, this is so old. I don't care what Harry does. He's probably just leading that cow on, too." She tried to walk past Ron back into the common room. Then she found herself flying through the air to land with a jarring thump on the couch of the prefects' office.

"VIRGINIA MARGRET WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed. He whipped out his wand and used it to slam the door shut, lock it and add a silencing charm on it. 

Ginny opened her mouth, but Ron put his hand over it. He knelt on the couch and glared at her. "Do you remember last year? All those nasty articles that Skeeter wrote about Hermione and Harry and about Hermione and Viktor? Do you remember how much that hurt them?" He switched his glare to Hermione. "Do you remember how much that hurt? Huh?" 

He glared back at Ginny before Hermione could answer.

"So what the bloody hell gives you the right to do the same thing? Cho Chang's never done anything to you, and it case you've forgotten, her boyfriend was murdered last year. MURDERED! Do you have any idea of what she's been through? Cedric wasn't just killed, he was _murdered_ and practically in front of her. You think that means _nothing_ to her? She sees one boyfriend _murdered_ and you two think she's so bloody shallow that all she has on her mind is _replacing_ him? Has it occurred to you that maybe, _maybe_, she wants to find out what happened? And that Harry is the _only one_ she can ask about it? And that this isn't the sort of conversation you want to hold in the Great Hall where any dirty-minded little girl can overhear?"

Ginny's face was flushed with embarrassment and Hermione's eyes were open wide with shock.

Ron pulled his hand away from Ginny's mouth and backed away. "You don't know Cho; you have no idea what she's been through since Cedric died. Don't you _dare_ pass judgment on her or I'll owl Mum and tell her you've been gossiping."

He shot Hermione a disgusted look. "_You_ should know Harry better by now. If he were seeing another girl, he'd have told Ginny that straight out." He turned and yanked at the doorknob, cursed when he couldn't get the door open and then waved his wand at it to remove the charms. "Oh, and I think I'll see if the twins will let me tag along to Hogsmeade with them this time."

He stormed out, slamming the door and rattling the portraits in the common room.

"Ouch," Hermione said.

Ginny just stared at the door in shock.

Lunches with Ravenclaws:

Harry hadn't really expected lunch with Cho to be pleasant, considering the topic. He didn't expect to feel guilty about Ginny as well as guilty about Cedric. Damn, why did girls have to be so complicated?

He met Cho in The Ex Libris' teashop and they sat down in a booth. They didn't make an effort to sit in a back booth. Neither of them wanted to look like they were trying to hide. The tearoom was subdued and quiet, not the solemn hush of the library, but with a serene stillness that was conducive to contemplation and… healing.

Oddly enough, the distress he felt over hurting Ginny's feelings helped him deal with the pain over Cedric's death. At least, it helped numb him to it. He remembered Sirius said that other emotions would push his guilt about Cedric to the back of his mind. This made him feel even guiltier.

He sighed. 

"I'm sorry," Cho said. "I don't have the right to make you go through this again."

"It's all right," Harry said. "Talking about it does help."

He told her about the Maze. How he and Cedric had wound up working together. He stressed how Cedric had come to his aid against the Acromantula. He told her how Cedric had been willing to let him take the Cup all by himself. "I talked him into taking it with me," he said bitterly. "It's my fault." He closed his eyes. "I'll never forgive myself."

Cho laid her hand on his forearm. "Then I will forgive you," she said quietly. "You both wanted to do the right thing. Under other circumstances, what you did would have been noble. Unless you can look me in the eye and swear that you knew that the Cup was booby-trapped, then you have nothing to feel guilty about."

Harry looked her in the eye and felt an immense flood of gratitude toward her. He'd been told this many times, but somehow it meant something from her.

He took a deep breath and told her how Cedric died. 

Then he skimmed a little until the part where the ghosts had come out of Voldemort's wand. "He asked me to take him back to his parents. So when I got away from the Death Eaters, I grabbed him and summoned the Cup and we were Portkeyed back to the pitch."

Cho was wide-eyed. "You saw your parents? Oh, Harry, it's so awful that you never got the chance to know them!" She excused herself for several minutes. Harry poked at the food in front of him. So engrossed in his story, he had barely noticed the dainty little sandwiches he'd been eating.

When Cho came back, she was dry eyed and calm. "Harry, you haven't … have you seen Cedric since then?"

Harry shook his head. 

"I'd give anything to see him, just once more," Cho sighed. "I wish I could at least say good-bye." She sighed. "I know he's gone, but every where I go, there's something that reminds me of him. I keep feeling like I'll just turn the corner someday, or walk into the library, and he'll be there…" she sighed. "I have an invitation to transfer to Beauxbatons for my final year. I may take them up on it. At least there I won't expect…" she trailed off. "I guess that's running away, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't remember my parents at all. I guess you have to do what's right for you." He fidgeted with his teacup. "I wouldn't think you were running away if you wanted to transfer, if that's any help."

"Thank you, Harry. Yes, it does help."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Harry broke it. "Would you… tell me a little more about him? I really don't know much about how he lived."

Talking about Cedric's life made them both feel a little better. Then they forced themselves to talk about everyday topics. Quidditch, O.W.L.s, Quidditch, N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, the upcoming Yule Ball, Quidditch, the Patronus Charm. 

Cho thought that Harry should give a class in that. "It will look good on your resume."

"That's what Hermione says," Harry admitted. "She's tutoring students in Muggle studies and Arithmancy. Ron's teaching a chess class. I guess I could try teaching the Patronus Charm." He made a face. "The worst that can happen is that I make a total fool of myself."

"You couldn't be worse than Lockhart," Cho pointed out.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"I have an ulterior motive," Cho confessed.

"You want to learn it, too?" Harry guessed.

"Exactly," Cho answered. "It will be worth extra points on my N.E.W.T. next year."

They both made a conscious effort not to dwell on the fact that Cedric should have been studying for his N.E.W.T.s right now.

"Speaking of Hermione Granger," Cho said. "I was wondering. Are you two dating?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are you dating _anybody_?" 

Harry frowned at her. That almost sounded… No, he wouldn't even think that. He shook his head again.

Cho studied him thoughtfully. "You know, there's the perfect girl for you right under your nose."

"Meaning who?" Harry asked.

"Ginny Weasley," Cho said. She cleared her throat and blushed a little. "I know it's none of my business, but I thought I could get away with saying something. Besides, it doesn't take a Ravenclaw prefect to see that you make a good couple," added the Ravenclaw prefect.

Harry smiled ruefully. "I'm not offended."

"Any chances of you two getting together?" Cho asked, almost managing to get a twinkle in her eye.

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I like her. We'll see what develops." Assuming, of course, that she would ever speak to him again.

Shopping:

After leaving the Tea Room, Harry headed back to The Three Broomsticks. Part of him wanted to apologize to Ginny. Another part was annoyed that he'd have to fee that he needed to apologize to Ginny. He'd told her he wasn't sure how he felt about her. What business was it of hers if he had lunch with Cho Chang, anyway? If she wanted to know what was going on between Cho and him, why didn't she just ask?

His internal tirade was interrupted when he saw Ginny looking in the window of a shop he'd never been in. When he came closer, he noticed that the shop was filled with jewelry and frou-frou and other things he'd never had occasion to buy.

Harry walked up to her and tried to gauge her mood by her expression. She looked tired and unhappy. It didn't look like she'd been crying, so maybe his lunch with Cho hadn't been a devastating blow after all. He sighed. He was glad that she wasn't devastated, wasn't he? Or did he _want_ her mooning over him? Why were emotions so bloody complicated anyway?

He looked at her reflection in the window and tried to guess what she was looking at. After a few minutes, it he realized that she was looking at his reflection in the window. That seemed like a good time to say something. He wished he could think of something that would make her feel better. He couldn't think of anything witty to say at all.

"Erm, hi," he finally said.

"Hello, Harry," Ginny said. She swallowed. "Did you and Cho have a good time?"

"No," Harry said. He looked into the shop. "We just had some things we… that we had to talk about."

"Cedric?"

Harry nodded. He took a deep breath. "Ginny, I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."

Ginny shook her head. "You have the right to talk to anybody you want to, or date anybody you want to."

"I don't think Cho's up for dating yet," Harry said.

Ginny chewed the inside of her cheek. "I know. Ron read us the riot act over assuming that you and Cho were, well… He was genuinely upset on Cho's behalf, not just yours. I never would have suspected him of it."

Harry turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I mean, he doesn't even know her," Ginny continued.

"That doesn't mean he can't stand up for her," Harry replied. "He is, after all, a Gryffindor, and we're supposed to be chivalrous." 

Ginny looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye. "You have no idea what it's like to see your pouty brother suddenly don shining armor."

Harry grinned. "That must have been almost as big a shock as your brothers suddenly realizing that you were a girl."

Ginny sniggered.

Harry turned back to the window, feeling a little better. He studied the items in there. There were fancy jewelry boxes, silver backed hairbrushes, glittery atomizers and a host of other sparkly items he couldn't identify. After a few seconds, he said, "I'd have told you if I was dating someone." He thought about what to add to that, but decided to leave it.

"Thank you," Ginny said softly.

"You're welcome," Harry said. He hunted around for something else to say. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"They didn't come," Ginny said. "They were too busy rowing."

"Oh. About what?"

Ginny shot him a sideways look.

"No, they weren't arguing about me!"

"Well, Ron was put out by the fact that Hermione didn't _instantly_ realize that your lunch with Cho wasn't a romantic date. Then he brought up Viktor Krum."

"Oh, dear."

"They started last night, after you told Ron that you were having lunch with Cho."

"Heard that, did you?" Harry said ironically. "Eavesdroppers shouldn't complain about what they hear."

Ginny sniffed disdainfully. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I wanted to know what you and Ron had planned for today. I just happened to overhear what you said."

"Oh."

"Ron said that he was going to come to Hogsmeade with the twins, but they had different plans. So Ron decided he just come alone. Then he met up with Hermione just after you left. That's when I left. In fact, there was a mass exodus then. Ron and Hermione looked ready to start throwing hexes at each other."

Harry heaved a sigh. "I should write this all down."

"What for?" 

"For my best man speech when they get married," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Ginny laughed.

Harry grinned. "I should get them some sweets. Ron especially will be upset if he runs out of Sugarquills."

"Think he'll let you buy him sweets?" Ginny asked.

"He's never objected to me buying him food," Harry said. Just then, his stomach gave an enormous gurgle.

Ginny laughed again. "I thought you had lunch!"

"Have you ever had tea? All they served are these tiny sandwiches. Half the time I couldn't even tell what was in them."

Ginny giggled. "Do you want something else to eat?"

"Yeah," Harry shot her a look. "But first I have to get Hermione a birthday present."

"You should have bought something in the bookstore," Ginny said.

"Maybe, I'm not sure what books she has," Harry said. "I bet she's got more books than Ex Libris, anyway."

Ginny had to acknowledge the truth of that.

"This would be a good place," Ginny said, nodding at the shop. "They opened last year."

"Do they have anything like that fountain puzzle?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. I've never actually been inside." Ginny turned to look at him. "Are you really planning on playing a prank on poor Hermione?"

"Let me think… Yes," Harry replied.

"Good," Ginny said. 

"But while I'm shopping, I think I'll get her a real Christmas present. What do you suggest?"

"Let's see what they have," Ginny said.

They went inside. The shop smelled of lavender, cedar and talcum powder. After wandering around for a few minutes, Harry was unpleasantly reminded of Privet Drive. His Aunt Petunia loved bric-a-brac and this store was filled with the whatnots and what-is-its that she loved.

"Oo, these are nice," Ginny said. 

Harry went over to see what she was looking at. There was a glass case filled with pewter, glass and porcelain animals. "You think she'd like one of those?" he asked. 

"She loves animals," Ginny said.

"Oh, right," Harry went back to studying the animals. There were all sorts of animals that Muggles thought of as being mythical, including a very nice glass Hippogriff, which he pointed out to Ginny.

"Oh, I'd get her the glass unicorn," Ginny said. 

"Why? Is that your favorite?"

Ginny nodded.

"I think I'll go with the Hippogriff," Harry said. When he went over to ask about the price, he asked about both. The proprietress understood completely when he asked that Ginny not be allowed to see that he'd bought the unicorn as well as the Hippogriff. "I'll see to everything," she promised.

Harry liked her. She saw his scar. Acknowledged it with a slightly raised eyebrow, but otherwise made no reference to it.

"I need to see if I can find something for Ron to give to Hermione for Christmas," Ginny said. "He asked me to get him something romantic for her."

The proprietress showed them some glass roses. They looked almost lifelike in their vase.

"Ooh, they even smell like roses," Ginny said. 

"They even stick like roses," Harry complained, sucking on his wounded finger.

Ginny had to make an effort to keep from licking her lips. "Those will be perfect. I'll have to tell Ron to come get her one."

"I'll have to rework the charm," the proprietress said. "Can't go around wounding my customers." She took the roses off the shelf and went into the back for a bandage.

The proprietress also had some healing ointment for Harry's poor finger and he was grateful that he wouldn't have to ask Ron or Hermione for a healing charm. He didn't want to do more revising than he already was, and who knew what Ron would ask in payment?

"Let's go look for something for Hermione's birthday," Harry said.

"We have plenty of nice gift items, Mr. Potter," the proprietress said. "I'm sure that we'll have something that will please her."

"Well, she gave me a jigsaw puzzle of a water fountain," Harry said.

The proprietress held up her hands. "I understand completely," she said. "I've been soaked down myself. I have a suggestion. Instead of some crude joke from Zonko's, may I suggest a more sophisticated prank?"

"Sophisticated?" Harry asked.

"She'd never expect that from you," Ginny said, poking him in the ribs.

"Thank you so much, Miss Weasley," Harry said, poking her back. "What did you have in mind?"

"How about a nice puzzle box?" the proprietress suggested. "We have a nice selection of them right here."

There were elegantly carved boxes ranging in from the size of a pack of cards to the size of a wardrobe.

"Why do you call them puzzle boxes?" Harry asked.

"Try to open one," the proprietress invited.

They spent several hours trying to open the boxes. They managed to get one of them open without hints. They managed to get another one open with hints. 

Finally, Harry decided on a deceptively simple looking box decorated with cats. 

Harry's stomach complained bitterly when they were through shopping.

"I guess we can grab a bite to eat," Ginny said.

"Nah, it's too late," Harry said. "We need to get back to the castle. It's almost time for dinner. We have just enough time to hit Honeydukes on our way back."

He paid for his purchases, and was gratified to find that the proprietress had packed up the glass animals without Ginny suspecting anything.

When they got back to the castle, Harry ran up into his room to put his purchases away. His shoes being wet, he sat down to change them. He fell asleep in the middle of the process.

Tricked Again:

Harry woke up, sweating and shaking, in the Hospital Wing.

"Harry? You awake?" 

He forced his eyes open to see Mr. Parkinson leaning over him.

"Mr. Parkinson? What happened? Did I have a relapse?" Harry asked. It hurt to breathe, much less talk. Maybe he'd come down with pneumonia again. He frowned. Wouldn't he have felt something sooner?

"Not of the _Kirttimukha_ hemorrhaging," Mr. Parkinson said. "You've been very sick. I'm afraid that you will have to stay in here for a few weeks."

"But…" Harry's protest died away as he realized something. Mr. Parkinson was the chief of surgery at St. Mungo's. He wouldn't have come for a mere case of pneumonia.

"Sir, what happened?" he asked. 

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm going to have to leave the explanations up to the headmaster."

"But," Harry's protest died away when Mr. Parkinson held up his hand. 

"I'm sorry, Harry, it will have to wait. Now, I need you to drink this," he held a goblet to Harry's lips. 

Harry started to lift his hand to guide the goblet, when he realized that he couldn't move his arm. His legs were cold and he couldn't feel his feet. His eyes widened.

"It's all right, Harry," Mr. Parkinson said soothingly. "You are going to be all right. We caught this in time. Now, you had better drink this."

Without giving himself time to think, Harry swallowed the contents of the goblet without even tasting them. He let his head fall back onto his pillow and his last conscious thought was… _I was poisoned_.

Author's Notes:

Thanks to Anne at GryffindorTower.net, my marvelously fast Beta-reader! Chapter 25 is beta'ed and only needs a final read through!

Good night, sweet prince is Shakespeare, if memory serves.

Methinks the girl protests too much – paraphrased from MacBeth.

Terrance Higgs was the Slytherin Seeker in the first book. He might have left school after that year, but I was always under the impression that he was bumped off the team when Malfoy bought his way onto the team. Anyway, I thought it would be nice if he got to play some more, so that's why he's on the team my AU.


	25. Unlikely Allies

A Harry Situation  
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium  
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Edited to fix an unfinished sentence.

Chapter 25: Unlikely Allies

Christmas Break: 

The next time Harry woke up, he found out that he had slept through the Yule Ball.

"And the end-of-term exams," Hermione added grimly.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Ron said.

"He'll have to make them up," Hermione said grimly. "You can imagine how happy Snape will be when he has to give make-up exams."

Harry sighed. "I may as well throw in the towel now," he said. "I'll never pass one of Snape's make-up exams."

"You can do it," Hermione said bracingly.

"What if I don't want to?" Harry said. "I'm sick and tired of that greasy git. Maybe I should just fail his damn class and be done with it."

Ron and Hermione were both taken aback by this.

"You don't want to just give up," Ron said. "That would make Snape to happy." He sighed. "Besides, I need moral support in that class."

"Why? Your marks have been excellent," Hermione said. "You even beat me on that last exam."

"Good job," Harry said. He paused. "So, how did the Yule Ball go?" He couldn't say that he was disappointed that he hadn't gone. He didn't have many good memories of the last ball. Correction, he had no good memories of the last ball.

"Ron was as big a hit at the Yule Ball as he had been at the Fancy Dress party. He had girls lining up to dance with him."

Harry grinned at them. "Way to go, Ron!" He shot a sly look at Hermione. "Hermione will be getting jealous, next."

"She was jealous," Ron said smugly. "Don't think I don't know why the heel of Parvati's shoe suddenly broke. Not to mention the trouble Padma was having with the hem of her dress. And why Eloise Midgen suddenly had such a giggle fit that she had to retire to the bathroom. I'm only surprised that you didn't do something to Bulstrode."

"Millicent kept her hands in the proper place," Hermione said. "Besides, she's got a boyfriend."

"Not to mention that she's bigger than you are," Harry added. "Remember the dueling club?"

"And I was going to be nice and tell you that Cho asked after you," Hermione sniffed.

"Oh, well, tell her thank you," Harry said. "After you get around to telling me that she said anything, of course."

"You should have seen Ginny," Ron added. "She had a line of boys fighting to dance with her."

"Who did she go with?" Harry asked.

"Dennis Creevy," Ron said.

"What, but he's only a Second Year!" Harry protested.

"And only a few inches shorter than you," Ron added.

Harry glared.

"Colin would have taken her, but he was too busy taking pictures," Hermione interjected hastily.

"I hope he saved some for me."

"He did, I have some here," Ginny said. She had just walked into the room wearing her dress robes and looking like she'd stepped out of a painting by Monet.

Harry's breath caught in the back of his throat and now he really understood why her brothers had been floored. She was… Ginny was… beautiful. He'd thought it before, but he couldn't even think now.

Ron and Hermione shared an amused look, then left to let Mother Nature do some matchmaking of her own.

After Hours: 

Dumbledore came in while Harry and Ginny were holding hands and talking about Quidditch.

"I hate to interrupt young love," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"The love of Quidditch knows no age limit," Harry said wisely.

Ginny giggled. Then she grew somber.

Harry struggled to sit up straighter and yelped when he tried to use his hand.

"Easy, Harry," Dumbledore said. He helped Harry to sit up straighter.

"What's wrong with my hand?" Harry asked.

"Harry, I'm afraid that you were poisoned on your last Hogsmeade visit," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Um, oh," Harry said. "But what does it have to do with my hand?"

"Because that's how the poison was put into your system," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry looked at him blankly, until memory flooded back. "The glass roses!"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "When Professor Weasley and I went to investigate, we found the real proprietress of the shop stupefied in the back room."

"It was a trap?" Harry frowned. "But why set up an ambush in the curio shop? I've never been there before."

Ginny's eyes crunched up and she looked ready to cry. "It's all my fault."

"Stop that!" Harry said. "You're not to blame because somebody wants to kill me!"

"No, but I lurked outside the curio shop all morning. It's right near the tea shop where you…" She gave a little hiccup here. "… You and Cho had lunch. I knew you'd have to walk past me to get to Honeydukes and The Three Broomsticks."

Harry patted her hand awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, but I really, really needed to talk to Cho." He shot an anxious look at Dumbledore.

The headmaster studied him gravely. "Were you telling her about Cedric's death?"

Harry nodded, feeling his own throat tighten.

Dumbledore nodded. "That was the right thing to do," he said. He looked grave. "Although there are those who will take it the wrong way."

Ginny made a small sound in the back of her throat. "Like me," she said. "I knew you weren't romancing Cho. I was just…" She hung her head.

Harry didn't think she had any reason to be ashamed, and he said so. "You have feelings," he said. "I guess I should have said something."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't own you; we're not even, erm, going together or anything." She took a deep breath. "All you owe me is the truth."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her. "The truth can be a terrible thing," he warned.

"At least truth doesn't leave you covered in slime," Ginny darkly.

Dumbledore was apparently impressed with this.

Harry thought he understood what Ginny was referring to. Riddle's lies had caused them both to wind up in the Chamber of Secrets covered in slime and blood. Well, he'd been covered in blood, anyway. Harry was distracted when a horrible thought struck him. "Was anybody, erm, hurt?"

"No, nobody was killed, Harry," Dumbledore assured him. "The proprietress of the curio shop will recover after a few days." His beard twitched. "The official story is that you two interrupted a robbery in progress. The thief didn't escape with much."

"And I just happened to get sick afterward?" Harry asked with a trace of irony.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "You have spent a lot of time in the hospital wing this year. Nobody was particularly surprised that you would fall ill again."

Harry sighed. "I can't even go to Hogsmeade anymore, can I?"

Dumbledore didn't answer for a few minutes. "I'm sorry, but it would be better if you did not go."

Ginny squeezed Harry's good hand.

Harry stared off into space. "I don't get it," he said. "This just doesn't seem like Voldemort's work at all."

Ginny almost broke Harry's hand, but gave no other sign that the name upset her.

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "I mean, it's too low key. Last year, he had an elaborate plot to set me up to be a Hogwarts' champion so I'd wind up being kidnapped in front of half the wizarding world. It would have been easier to just owl me a Portkey."

"There are safeguards against that," Dumbledore said. "But yes, this does seem somewhat too self-effacing for Voldemort."

Ginny twitched.

"I suspect that one of his minions is behind this," Dumbledore continued. "Possibly even a minion who is acting without orders. Right now, both sides seem to be doing the same thing. We're all gathering up our forces." He sighed. "I'm afraid this is just the calm before the storm."

Harry felt nauseated. "What about the presents that I bought?"

"They are quite safe; Professor Weasley and I checked them over."

"Do you suppose I could return them?" Harry asked. "I… I don't think I could stand looking at them."

Dumbledore looked tired. "I suppose I can't blame you. I'll speak to the proprietress." He rose and gave Harry a smile that was surprisingly unconvincing. "You two continue on with your activities. Don't let a doddering old man like me disrupt your plans." He headed out the door. "I have some sweets on my desk, I mean, paperwork on my desk that needs my attention."

Harry and Ginny's grins faded after the headmaster closed the door. There was an awkward silence.

"Do you want to play a game or something?" Ginny asked.

"No," Harry said. "I'm kind of tired."

"I'll let you get some sleep then," Ginny said as she rose.

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"You look, erm, really nice in those robes," Harry said. He gave her a sweet smile that made her pulse flutter.

"Thank you," Ginny debated kissing him, but lost her nerve and just left.

Christmas Eve: 

Harry woke up with a start.

"Sorry," Sirius said.

"S'okay," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. He picked up his new glasses and settled them on his nose. "Happy Christmas, Dad," he said. A smile spread across his face.

"Happy Christmas to you, Leo-mine," Sirius said. "Have you told Ron and Hermione about your new nickname?"

Harry shook his head. "I've hardly seen them. I've spent most of the year in the Hospital Wing."

"Poor kid," Sirius said. "I've brought you a present."

"You shouldn't…"

"I fixed it myself. These are easier than wands." He held out a familiar, long package. "I bought this Wishing Star broom for you when you were three days old. Saw it in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies and couldn't resist."

"Did you try?" Harry asked interestedly. He unwrapped the broom and stared at it. It was unfortunately cute, but it was his first broom.

"Leo, I'm trying to be sentimental here," Sirius scolded. "I can't stay long. However, I wanted to give you this and see that you were all right." He paused. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, Dad," Harry said. "I don't have your gift here. It's still at Ollivander's."

"Don't worry about it, I'll make do," Sirius said. He pulled a flask out of his pocket. "Here's some eggnog. How's about a New Year's toast while we're at it?"

Harry accepted a goblet. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said.

"Mischief managed," Sirius returned.

Later, Harry would kick himself for not giving Sirius his Christmas card from Lily.

The Thought that Counts: 

Harry was awakened from an uneasy sleep to the sound of whispers.

"It's almost eight!" Ron hissed.

"He's been ill, he needs his sleep!" Hermione hissed back.

"He can sleep all day!" Ron protested. "I want to open presents!"

"You could have stayed in your dormitory, you know."

"All by myself? On Christmas?"

" 'M'wake," Harry muttered feeling he'd been through this once already.

"YES!" Ron was triumphant.

Harry pried his face off his pillow and groped for his glasses.

"Here," Ginny said.

Harry blinked at her and wondered if she'd been watching him sleep. He found himself blushing at the thought.

Fortunately, Ron provided a distraction then by ripping open his presents.

"Hey! Wait for us!" Ginny protested. She disappeared around the screen that surrounded Harry's bed.

"Well, quit snogging under the mistletoe and get out here," Ron said.

Harry sighed and considered going back to sleep, but he wanted to see how his quickly improvised Christmas presents were received. He owed Colin Creevy a debt of gratitude for even trying.

Ginny had made Knitten Owls for the three of them.

"Her Knitten Kritters are becoming popular," Ron boasted. "Fred and George are thinking of carrying them in their shop." His pride in his sister was so obvious that Ginny blushed and Hermione blinked rapidly against a suspicious brightness in her eyes.

Harry shook his head. Honestly, girls cried at everything.

"It's legal here and everything," Ginny added. "I asked McGonagall. Not even Filch objected to me knitting animals." She grinned. "I think it might have something to do with Mrs. Norris liking her Knitten Mousie."

"Barking, that's what you are," Ron said fondly.

Ron's gift to Ginny was a box of multi-colored yarn. "So you won't run out of material any time soon." He gave Harry a box of chocolate frogs and a set of chocolate chessmen. "The chocolate frogs came in so handy last time," he said. "The chessmen should be even better in a fight."

"Do they move?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head, grinning. "Nah, not really. But they're fun to play with because you get to eat the pieces you capture." He started fidgeting when Hermione opened her present.

"Oh, a charm bracelet!" Hermione said. "Thank you Ron!" she held up the silver bracelet. A miniature silver book dangled from it.

"It's only got the one charm on it," Ron said a bit awkwardly.

"That's all right," Hermione said. "I'll collect more over the years." She beamed at him. "Thank you!" Naturally, she flicked open the book to see if there was any writing in it and burst out laughing.

"What does it say?" Harry asked.

"Don't read now, it's Christmas!" Hermione quoted.

"Do I know you or what?" Ron boasted.

"I guess you do," she said smilingly as she handed him his gift.

It turned out to be a miniature chess set that replayed some of the greatest chess matches of all time.

"Cool! I can really analyze them this way!" Ron said.

Harry cleared his throat. "I have something for the three of you," he said. Handing the playing card sized packages around.

"I told you not to buy me a present, Potter," Ron said.

"You said that I could get you a card," Harry replied blandly.

The cards turned out to be ersatz Chocolate Frog cards, with their pictures and their most memorable moments.

Ron's card said that his most memorable moments included defeating McGonagall's giant chess set and facing down Aragog.

"I really don't think you should have put in the part about me beating Malfoy around the head," Hermione said as she studied her card. "Although I admit it was memorable."

"I did not single-handedly tackle Sirius Black," Ginny put in. "There were three of us." She read further. "How did you know that I was the first one in my class to master the Wingardium Leviosa spell?"

"Where'd you get these?" Ron asked.

"From Colin," Harry said in answer to both questions. "I didn't buy them, either. I traded for them fair and square."

"So he got that autographed picture of you after all?" Ron sniggered.

Harry decided to change the subject and ripped open his other presents.

Mrs. Weasley had sent them all jumpers and a big tin of treacle fudge. Ron's jumper was maroon, Ginny's was pink, Harry's was gold and Hermione's was lavender.

Hagrid had sent all of them palm-sized, hand-carved wooden griffins.

"Cool," Ron said holding his up and admiring it.

"He's really quite talented," Hermione added.

Hermione's parents sent her a porcelain music box that played "That Old Black Magic."

The Dursleys sent Harry a handkerchief, which Harry hastily banished to the rubbish bin as soon as he realized that it had been used. "EURGH! Just when you think they can't get any lower," he muttered.

The other three looked around for a distraction. Once again, Ron came through.

"So, where's your present for Harry, Hermione?"

Blushing, Hermione pulled a box the size of a teacup out from under her chair.

"It's nothing romantic, is it?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"No," Hermione said. "It's just extremely sentimental."

"Oh, dear," Harry said. He opened it as cautiously as he would a present from the twins. Inside was a smaller version of the pensieve that Dumbledore kept in his office.

"I've been working on this since August," Hermione said. "Rather, Mr. Parkinson, your grandfather and I have been working on this. It has some of your grandfather's memories in it."

Harry stared into the Pensieve wide-eyed. He could see glimpses of a Christmas tree, a man teaching a messy-haired boy how to fly a broom, that same boy teaching the man how to read under the bedclothes so no one could see.

"It's not exactly the same as being able to talk to your grandfather, but I hope it's a decent substitute," Hermione added a trifle nervously.

Harry tore his eyes away from the Pensieve. He wanted to see more, but he wanted a little privacy. He was afraid he might burst into tears. He cleared his throat a few times as he tried to think of some way of thanking Hermione for this gift. "Erm, I reckon there won't be any payback for that fountain puzzle," he wound up saying.

"You're welcome, Harry," Hermione said, relief evident in her face.

Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw (2): 

The poison had weakened Harry's immune system, so Harry spent the rest of the holiday coming down with one lung infection after another. He spent the first two weeks of January in the Hospital Wing. The upside to this was that he didn't have to endure Potions with Snape. The downside was that he couldn't play Seeker in the second Gryffindor – Ravenclaw match.

The replay was the weekend before Harry was released. Even if he hadn't been hospitalized, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hooch would have forbidden him to play.

Parvati, claiming it was too cold to be outside, came and sat with Harry. They took turns using his mother's spyglass to watch. Twenty minutes into the game, Harry's eyes pained him so much that he had to quit.

"Ow!" he said.

"What's wrong?" Parvati asked.

"Dunno," Harry said. "All of a sudden, it was like somebody was poking pins in my eyes." He pushed his glasses up and swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Maybe it's your new glasses," Parvati suggested.

"Don't rub at them, Potter," Madam Pomfrey said. "That will only make it worse." She bustled over to him. "Let me see," she said. As she examined his eyes, she shot of questions. "Did you feel something enter your eyes? Did you see a flash of light?"

"No and no," Harry replied. "All of a sudden it felt like my eyes were on fire."

Madam Pomfrey frowned. Then she tried a simple 'finite incantatem'. Much to her surprise, it worked. "You are not using that thing until Professor Flitwick checks it over thoroughly. She held out her hand for the spyglass and Harry reluctantly handed it over.

"Then it was a curse?" Parvati asked.

"We'll find out," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Now we'll have to wait to hear what happens," Harry said in disgust. "I hope Hermione's Omnioculars are working well."

Surprisingly, the team came bursting in less than twenty minutes later, amid a hail of confetti and thunder of wet-start firecrackers.

"It's over?" Parvati asked in surprise.

"Oh, yes," Fred chortled. He handed Parvati a Gryffindor rosette and a bottle of Pumpkin Fizz.

"What happened?" Harry demanded. He accepted a bottle of Pumpkin Fizz from George and studied the cap to see if it looked legitimate.

"Weren't you watching?" Ron asked in astonishment.

"I, erm, had some problems with the spyglass," Harry confessed. He decided that the Pumpkin Fizz was safe and opened it.

"Madam Pomfrey confiscated it," Parvati added. She sipped on hers and visibly braced herself for some sort of reaction.

"Damn! Why'd she do that?"

"Ron! Language! And you're ruining Ginny's moment!" Hermione scolded.

Ron blushed, then grabbed Ginny's hand and raised it over her head. "The winner and new champion!"

Harry grinned at her. Ginny's grin was a flash of white amidst the red blush and red hair. "I was lucky," she confessed.

"Luck is often a matter of doing the right thing at the right time," Hermione said.

"Congratulations," Parvati said.

"So, what happened?" Harry asked.

Hermione held up her Omnioculars. "I've got it saved for posterity." She said.

"It was a brilliant day, visibility was good and we were playing a civilized team," Ron said. He held his bottle like a microphone and did a credible imitation of Lee Jordan.

Harry laughed. "It couldn't have been a very long game," he said. As nothing had happened to Parvati, he decided to take a drink.

"About twenty minutes," Ginny said. "You still hold the record. I can't even say that I caught the Snitch."

Harry raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

"I was circling the pitch, not too low, not too high, just like you told me, coach." Ginny's grin was becoming infectious. "Cho tried to feint, but she couldn't fool me. I could see that the Snitch wasn't there. Then I went towards the Ravenclaw goal as if I'd seen something. She didn't buy it either. Then I dived under a Bludger. Just as I started to gain some altitude…" She had to stop for breath because her brothers were laughing too loudly to be heard over.

"I saw all that," Harry said. "The Snitch showed up just after the Bludger almost hit MY broomstick!"

Ginny made as if to whack him with said broom.

"That's when the spyglass started acting up," Harry said. "It spiked me in the eyes!"

"That must be what the warning was about," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Harry sighed very loudly.

Ginny laughed and delivered the punch line. "The Snitch flew down the front of my robes."

Harry and Parvati sniggered.

"No way around it," Seamus said. "That thing was created by a man."

That set everybody off.

"So how does that explain what happened to Harry?" Parvati asked when they had calmed down enough to speak.

"Well, the inscription warns against trying to look in the boys' dormitory," Hermione said. "I think there's probably a spell to prevent the spyglass from being used for voyeurism."

"Peeping down a girl's cleavage must also be a no-no," Lavender giggled.

The twins and Ron made strangled noises and Lavender gave them a puzzled look.

"Ignore them," Ginny said. "They aren't used to the idea that their ickle sister has, as they say, cleavage."

Parvati, Lavender and Hermione thought this was very funny.

"Looks like our fears about the future of Gryffindor Quidditch were groundless," Fred said.

"May I propose a toast to the future of Gryffindor Quidditch?" George asked.

"To the future of Gryffindor Quidditch!" the others chorused.

Everybody drank except the twins, which is why the twins were the only ones who didn't turn orange.

The Weasley Twins Explain All

"It's a potion/ incantation combo," Fred explained as he and George dangled, head down, from the ceiling. "The drink is perfectly safe until you say the trigger phrase."

"It will wear off in a few hours," George added in a placating manner. "We designed it for Quidditch fans, so they could show support for their teams."

"I think you should bring them down now, Poppy," Dumbledore suggested gently.

Poppy scowled at the twins. "If Mr. Potter has a bad reaction to that potion, I shall see you both expelled."

The twins looked at her in shock.

"Harry's on medication for his lung infection," Dumbledore pointed out sternly. "Mixing potions is not a good idea."

The twins looked stricken.

Fortunately, Harry did not have a bad reaction. In fact, his lung infection cleared up quickly after that incident. Reluctantly, Madam Pomfrey looked into the formula that the twins had used in case it had actually done something useful.

The Patronus Class

February saw Harry actually putting Cho's idea to work and starting a Patronus class. The Prowlery was too small for the crowd that had signed up, so Dumbledore had agreed to let them use the Great Hall for this occasion, provided that he had some teachers supervising.

Harry was nervous. He wasn't used to public speaking and he'd never taught anything to anybody, unless you counted teaching Hermione how to break rules. Which he didn't, because he didn't want Hermione to hit him with the Fire-starting Glare of Extreme Huffiness.

Now here he was, expected to teach his a crowd. There were the usual Prowlers, plus a few more fifth-years, plus some sixth, plus some seventh years, plus some teachers! To top it all off, one of the teachers was Snape.

Malfoy and his cronies were nowhere in sight. For that small mercy, Harry was dutifully grateful.

He stood in front of the crowd and wished he could have had some practice sessions with a smaller group. However, there was no turning back now.

He tapped his throat with his wand. "Sonorus," he said. Then he addressed the crowd. "Can everybody hear me? Can everybody see me?" He was so struck by his resemblance to Lockhart that he almost bolted. Seeing Ron, Seamus and Dean sniggering in the corner didn't help his confidence any.

"Right, then, what we're going to learn is the Patronus Charm; can anybody tell me what that is for?"

"It's a charm to ward off Dementors," Justin Finch-Fletchley said.

"Yes, do you know how it works?"

"A Patronus contains positive emotions, but Dementors can't feed on them because a Patronus can't feel despair," Hermione recited.

"Right, there are two things you have to do, the charm itself is easy: 'Expecto Patronum'."

The crowd repeated the words.

"That's right; try it a few more times."

After a few minutes, Harry went on to the next part. "The next part is the hard part. You have to come up with a happy memory. I mean a really, really happy memory."

"How's that hard?" Terry Boot wanted to know.

"Remember, you're faced with a Dementor. Your mind is going to be filled with horrible memories."

"The Patronus works on Lethifolds, too," Susan Bones pointed out.

"Yeah," Millicent said. "Do you think it'll be easy to come up with a happy memory while you're being squashed and suffocated?"

"Ah," Susan said. "Point taken."

Dumbledore leaned back as the students started trying to combine the charm with their happiest thoughts. Snape crossed his arms and scowled. McGonagall leaned forward and folded her arms on the table in front of her.

"He's a natural for this, Red," a voice said from behind them. "Why not hire him?"

They turned to see the ghost Dusty standing there.

Snape snorted. "Potter? As a teacher? That would be a disaster." He looked Dusty over. "I don't recall seeing you before."

"We've met," Dusty said. "I see you far too often for my tastes." He turned back to Dumbledore. "So, how about it Red? We've got to see if all is secure down there, after all."

Dumbledore made a wry face. "You may have a point, Dusty."

"Besides, it's for the sake of my history book," Dusty said. "I can't rest until I finish it, and I'm rather stuck at the moment."

"I'll think about it, Dusty," Dumbledore said.

"You might want to think about that time you broke into Dippet's private wine cellar because you were convinced that the entrance was in there. Wouldn't want your students to emulate what you did when you realized that was a dead end." Dusty grinned. "How long did that hangover last, anyway?"

"That was a long time ago, Dusty. I don't recall," Dumbledore said with dignity.

"Why?"

"I was young," Dumbledore said in tones that strongly suggested that the topic was closed.

"You were a professor at the time, you can't hide behind that 'boys will be boys' alibi," laughed Red.

McGonagall and Snape looked at the headmaster in astonishment. Dumbledore ignored them and continued to watch the students. He had a lot of practice in not blushing.

The Weasleys Talk About Romance: 

People were actually starting to feel sorry for Slytherin. Their performance on the Quidditch Pitch was nothing less than atrocious. Malfoy could not coordinate his team to save his life and it was only Terrence Higgs' masterful coordination with the other Chasers that prevented the games from being a total walkover.

The Gryffindors couldn't even bring themselves to gloat, much, at least, not where Snape could hear them. Professor McGonagall was too much of a lady to gloat. In fact, she went out of her way to be pleasant to Snape and remembered to smile at him at every opportunity.

The students just went on with their lives. Harry's Patronus Class was a huge success. People were talking about his chances for becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher straight out of Hogwarts.

"He's already overqualified," somebody said.

Hermione was so absorbed in her studies, prefect's duties and teaching House-elves how to read, that she didn't realize what the date was until a large bouquet of pink roses appeared under her nose.

She stared at it blankly. Then her gaze traveled up the length of the arm holding it to Ron's smug face.

"Bet you thought I'd forget, didn't you?" Ron challenged.

"Forget what?" Hermione asked.

"Valentine's Day!" Ron exclaimed.

"Oh. OH!" Hermione's eyes went wide.

Ron shook his head. "I don't get it. I thought that Valentine's Day was supposed to be a big deal for girls."

Hermione blushed. "Well, I guess I'm just used to, well, not getting anything." She realized she was being less than appropriately grateful and she threw her arms around Ron and gave him a big hug.

Meanwhile, Harry presented Ginny with a bouquet of white carnations.

Ginny was equally floored. "Oh, Harry, how… erm."

Harry winced. "I got the wrong kind of flowers, didn't I? I should have got roses." He sighed.

Ginny's brain finally wrapped itself around the fact that HARRY POTTER was offering her flowers for Valentine's Day. She yanked them out of his hand before they could be withdrawn. "No! They're lovely." She inhaled the spicy scent. "They smell wonderful, too!"

"That's one of the reasons why I chose them," Harry said. He looked at his now empty hand as if he were checking for blisters.

Ginny looked at him curiously. "What was the other reason?"

"Well, the roses, erm, clashed with your hair."

Ginny laughed out loud.

"And carnations don't have nasty thorns to poke you."

The common room became uncommonly hushed.

"What?" Harry said, looking around in bewilderment.

Ginny made a "snrking" noise that told Harry he had stuck his foot in his mouth.

The twins advanced on him. "What's this about poking our sister?" Fred asked with a maniacal glint in his eye.

Head Girl Johnson, engrossed in her bouquet of red roses, pretended not to notice.

"Poking our sister? Who's talking about poking our sister?" Bill appeared out of nowhere, as if he'd been lying in ambush all the time.

"My guess that it was Potter," Ron said. Ron advanced and Hermione giggled into her bouquet.

The twins grabbed Harry by the arms and picked him up bodily.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Harry protested. "You know bloody well I was talking about roses!"

"I think it's time we had a little man-to-man talk," Bill said gravely.

"Put me down!" Harry began to flail about.

"Oh, no," Ron said, grabbing Harry's legs. "If you're going to go around giving our ickle sister flowers, then you have to sit through the Weasley version of The Talk."

"As told by Fred, George, Ron and Bill," Bill said sternly.

They carried the protesting Harry out of the portrait hole.

"Don't damage him!" Angelina called after them. "We still have Hufflepuff to obliterate!"

The portrait hole closed with a thump amidst a storm of giggles.

Ginny looked at the bouquet of carnations in her hand and grinned. She was actually getting somewhere.

Time to Take a Break: 

If Ginny thought it would be easy from now on, she was soon disabused of that notion. She had a formidable rival for Harry's time, if not his affections.

As the year wore on, the O.W.L.s loomed portentously over the fifth-years' thoughts. The Prowlery was almost never unoccupied. Large sections of the library migrated there, seemingly of their own accord. Previously lackadaisical students suddenly found themselves glued to their textbooks. (In Ron's case, that was literal the time he let the twins take him by surprise.)

Several students took a Practice O.W.L. for the first time, gaped at the results, and joined the Prowlers in their study sessions.

"Maybe it's a good thing Hermione didn't schedule any time to get into trouble, after all," Ron muttered to Harry. "With this course load, we'd never get around to it, anyway."

There was one aberration during this. The Easter holiday saw a bloody rebellion against books.

Okay, Harry got a paper cut and decided that it was a sign that it was time to take a break. He declared that there were more important things right now than books. His health demanded that he gain some weight and there was all this chocolate on hand just begging for the opportunity.

Ginny would have taken the opportunity to assist him, if she hadn't managed to get detention for most of the Easter break.

"Ginny, I am ashamed of you!" Ron scolded.

"Well, Malfoy had it coming," Ginny muttered, rubbing her newly healed hand.

"But you did it when I wasn't there to see!" Ron complained.

"I got a picture!" Colin said happily. "I'll make up a new Chocolate Frog card for you, Ginny. Most notable accomplishment to date, blackening Malfoy's eye!"

"Don't forget pasting Viktor Krum," Ron crowed.

Harry wandered over and Ginny hoped that he would offer to kiss her hand and make it better. However, all he did was mention Quidditch and the need to practice. He did, however, hold Ginny's hand on the way to the pitch.

Most of the Prowlers followed Harry's example and abandoned the Prowlery from the Thursday before Good Friday to the Monday after Easter. Only Hermione, with Ron in tow, went up there during those four days.

However, they did not study.

Time to Start Panicking: 

Study resumed with a vengeance after the Easter break. Snape, apparently in retaliation for Neville and Millicent making such a good team, decided to divide the rest of the Potions class up into Slytherin/ Gryffindor teams.

Hermione was partnered with Goyle, which had the effect of bringing his grade up dramatically.

Harry was paired with Crabbe, which had the effect of dramatically increasing the number of melted cauldrons. This made Snape happy as he finally had a chance to deduct points from Gryffindor.

Lavender was paired with Pansy, which drove the Slytherin girls into a hissy fit. "She keeps smiling at me!" she complained bitterly. "Never trust a smiling Gryffindor!"

Lavender's constant grinning eventually got to Snape and he put her back with Parvati, as had been her intention all along. Pansy was reassigned to work with Blaise and they spent more time arguing than all of the Slytherin/ Gryffindor teams put together.

Ron was paired with Malfoy. Snape must have expected Ron to lose control so he could assign detention. Uncharacteristically, Ron managed to keep his temper. Snape was only able to take points off for Ron's temper calming mantra: 'bouncing ferrets, bouncing ferrets.'

Snape was eventually forced to switch partners again. Pansy seemed a lot happier with the arrangement than Malfoy did. Blaise and Ron worked so well together that their grades started challenging Hermione's.

The idea of someone beating Hermione must have made Snape happy, because he left the partner arrangement standing for the rest of the school year.

Patronus Finals: 

The only other class worth mentioning was the weekly Patronus class. Much to his surprise, Harry found that he actually enjoyed teaching. He was thrilled when one of his students managed to produce a misty Patronus.

Harry laughed aloud with delight. "Good work, Zabini!"

"Yours was a stag," Blaise protested over the storm of congratulations.

"It didn't start out a stag," Harry said. "Yours will get stronger with practice." He made a face. "Or tremendous motivation. I hope you don't ever have that kind of motivation. I mean, you'd probably do very well if I brought in a Dementor, but that's a bit extreme."

"I heard that Professor Lupin brought in a Dementor to train you on," Blaise said.

Harry shook his head. "No, he just used a Boggart." He didn't feel the need to explain that the Boggart would only turn into a Dementor if the person it was facing feared Dementors more than anything else. He didn't think it was necessary as they supposedly all learned this in third year.

Blaise nodded and went back to practicing.

Harry was actually disappointed when his class started shrinking over the weeks. Some left because they became discouraged, some because they had too much other work, and some because they felt they'd learned enough.

He wasn't sorry when Eloise Midgen left, though. She was a nice girl, but had as much luck with spells as Neville did. She managed to produce a misty Patronus, but she also managed to throw Harry half way across the room and later to turn his glasses into slime.

By June, the class was down to the determined, the desperate, and a handful of sixth-years who had nothing better to do than to start studying for their N.E.W.T.s.

The Weasleys had managed to turn the Patronus lessons into an intense case study of sibling rivalry. Each of the five Weasleys was dead set to learn the Patronus first. Bill, as eldest and a professor, was particularly determined not to be outdone by his younger siblings. The twins and Ron spent a lot of time twitting Bill about his inability to produce one.

Ron became obsessed with the idea of producing the Patronus first. Hermione had never seen Ron so focused on anything outside of chess and wondered if she'd be able to get him to concentrate that hard in sixth year, too.

Ginny took it as a personal affront that Harry would not give her private tuition. However, anytime Harry tried to be alone with her, one or more (usually more) obsessed brothers would tag along demanding Patronus coaching. (That was their story, anyway.)

This made it difficult for Harry to flirt. What really hurt was that Ginny didn't even seem to notice when he did work up the nerve to try. He sighed and concentrated on getting the first Weasley Patronus to appear. Surely, that would calm things down.

It didn't. When Harry suggested that they concentrate on Christmas at The Burrow, each of them managed to produce a misty Patronus. That only turned the race into one to produce a stronger one, like Harry's stag.

"Help me," Harry appealed to Hermione, Cho and Angelina, the only non-Weasleys left in the class at that point.

"Sorry, Harry," Cho said. "I'm still trying to get past the heavy mist stage myself.

Angelina grinned. "I have an idea." She walked over to Fred. "Hey, Fred. I know what memory you should use."

"What?" Fred asked.

"No fair!" George protested.

"How about the memory of me kissing you in front of the whole class?" Angelina suggested.

Fred frowned. "I don't… mrph." His complaint was cut off by Angelina suiting action to words. Then she whispered something in his ear.

Fred pulled away, looking first shocked, and then overjoyed. He took one step away from Angelina, whirled around and bellowed, "Expecto Patronum!"

Silver mist condensed into the shape of… a giant canary.

The unofficial Weasley Patronus Challenge was over.

"Class dismissed!" Harry cried. He saw his opening and he was going to take it. "Today, the first Saturday of June, I officially declare the Patronus class closed for the year. Full marks to all of you. Two hundred percent to Mr. Fred Weasley and I'm starved. Anybody want to go on a picnic?" He looked at Ginny when he said that and, for once, none of the Weasley boys tried to interrupt.

Ginny turned Weasley red.

Deciding to interpret this as a yes, Harry grabbed her hand and headed for the kitchen.

"A picnic sounds like a good idea," Ron said.

"I think we should go to the Prowlery," Hermione said.

Ron frowned. "Hermione! It's summer! It's Saturday! The Prowlery will be empty!" He thought that one over. "What are we waiting for? The Prowlery will be empty!" He led the way upstairs.

No Picnic: 

A picnic seemed such a reasonable idea. They didn't even have to break any rules, well, not many rules. Sneak into the kitchen and persuade the house-elves to give them a small picnic basket (instead of the laundry hamper that was the house-elves' first choice). Harry hung the picnic basket on his Wishing Star broom and he attached his snake rope to the broom.

They strolled hand in hand to the lake, with the Wishing Star tagging behind like an obedient puppy. Harry noticed that two or three Weasley brothers were in sight at all times. He decided to pretend that he thought this was a coincidence.

The food was good and they ate hungrily as they chatted about school. Then they ran out of things to say.

Ginny wondered if she should ask why he was wearing his ugly old glasses, but decided that wasn't a very nice thing to say.

"So, what do you think of the Cannons?" Harry ventured.

"Oh, don't start, I get enough of that from Ron," Ginny sighed. "Can we talk about something other than Quidditch?"

Harry looked deflated.

"Do you like poetry?" She could have bitten her tongue. Not only was it highly unlikely that Harry read poetry, this was the perfect opportunity to bring up "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad…"

"Erm, I guess," Harry said. "Don't know much about it though." Oh, great. Poetry? Of course, girls want to talk romantic stuff on a date. I should have asked Hermione for some pointers.

Of course, a date isn't going to act the same as a brother. Still, it had been a stupid question. What were you supposed to talk about on dates? She sighed. Harry was going to start thinking of her as that tongue-tied hero-worshipping little girl in a minute.

I must be the world's worst date. Ginny and Parvati will probably form a club. If they're lucky, they'll be able to find some of those 'Potter Really Stinks' buttons.

"Read any good books lately?" Harry ventured.

Do I want him to know I read Sickle Romances? Ginny asked herself. Hell, no. She cast around frantically for something safe. "Erm, nothing that wasn't related to schoolwork or, erm, poetry. You?"

"Nothing that didn't relate to school or Quidditch," Harry replied glumly. He looked around for inspiration. "Want to practice Parseltongue?"

"Erm, no," Ginny said. "You want to pick a fight?"

Harry looked at her blankly.

"Well, whenever Ron and Hermione run out of things to say, they start a fight," Ginny explained. "Never mind, it was a dumb joke."

"Oh." Harry said. "I thought we were going to be quieter than Ron and Hermione, anyway."

Ginny shot him a sideways look. "Irritated banshees are quieter than Ron and Hermione," she said.

Harry grinned. "True." He looked around again. It was a lovely day. The sun was shining, the lake was sparkling and Ginny was smiling. It should have been perfect. It would have been perfect if he wasn't such a dull stick that he couldn't carry on a decent conversation that didn't revolve around Quidditch, school or Voldemort. He resorted to drastic means.

"I spy, with my little eye, something red!"

Ginny actually laughed. "My hair!" She looked around. "Okay, I spy, with my little eye, something green!"

Harry looked around. "The grass?" he guessed.

Much to Harry's bewilderment, Ginny found this hilarious. Pity I don't know how to make her laugh intentionally. Harry looked around for something else green, oblivious to the fact that he'd need a mirror. His green eyes were drawn to the lake, where a familiar shimmer was taking place. He leaped to his feet and yanked Ginny up, too.

"RUN!"

"What?"

"Sonorus! EVERYBODY BACK TO THE CASTLE! NOW!"

Heads jerked around at Harry's enhanced bellow. Some of the students, recognizing the phenomenon as Harry had, sprinted madly for safety. Everybody else was enlightened when the dragon arrived.

"Not again," Harry growled. "GO!"

Ginny and Harry ran.

It took Ginny several minutes to realize that Harry was not running the same direction that everyone else was. She swore as she looked around. As she expected, Harry was heading away from the rest of the students, and the castle.

The dragon, of course, went after Harry.

Ginny could see why Harry was being so insufferably noble. The front door was blocked as students tried to shove their way in. Some of the smarter students elected to run around to the back, opting for a longer run over a longer wait at the door. Ginny saw Cho Chang trying to sort out the panicky students. Ginny shook her head and turned back. She had no idea what she was going to do if she should catch up to the dragon, but if she was going to be torched, she was going out in a fight, not a traffic jam.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that she wasn't the only one heading for the fight. It didn't surprise her at all that most of the crowd sported red hair.

"Will you get out of here?!" Harry bellowed. The sonorus spell was obviously still in effect.

"No," Ginny said, mostly to herself. What could she use against a dragon?

Harry had apparently been thinking of the same thing. He dodged the dragon's grasp, slipped on the grass and raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver stag shot out of Harry's wand, took one look at the dragon and gave Harry a look that plainly said, You're kidding me, before attacking.

"Expecto Patronum!" Then Fred's Giant Canary was flapping around the dragon's head, too.

Seconds later, a heavy mist drifted in as George and Angelina sent their Patroni into the fray.

Taking advantage of the diversion, Harry managed to dodge around the dragon and head back to the castle. Most of the students were inside, now. The teachers should be coming any minute. Ginny crouched, ready to run and she looked at her wand in disgust. She was too far away for her misty Patronus to help, and she couldn't think of anything useful to try.

The dragon battered past the Patroni and headed for the castle.

"Expecto Arachibutyro!" Bill bellowed.

The dragon was ready for him this time. The giant gob of peanut butter only made it pause for a second. Then the dragon made a hawking sound and spat. Liquid peanut butter shot out of its mouth and pinned Bill to the ground like a fly caught in amber.

"GINNY! RUN! DAMMIT!" Harry bellowed.

Not having any other ideas, Ginny turned and ran for the castle. What else worked against dragons? She didn't know the charm that Fleur had used, or the eye hex that Viktor had used. Then an idea came. Half turning as she ran, she bellowed, "Accio Wishing Star!"

The baby broomstick flew past the dragon, smacking it with the picnic basket as it passed.

Ginny touched her throat. "Sonorus." She let out a hiss to tell the snake rope to slash at the dragon.

Dragons are notoriously tough creatures, but even they will notice getting smacked in the eye by a rope. The dragon's head whipped around, but the baby broom and the rope slithered past it. The stag and the giant canary continued to harass it, but the dragon turned its attention back to the fleeing Harry.

Ron and Hermione had just entered the entrance hall on their way to lunch, when they found it filled with panicking students.

"DRAGON!" somebody screamed.

Hermione touched her wand to her throat. "Sonorus. YOU NEXT TO THE GREAT HALL, GO INSIDE, FIND TEACHERS! PREFECTS! GET EVERYBODY ELSE TO THE DORMITORIES! NOW! MOVE IT!"

The crowd started to move and drain out of the entrance hall. Ron and Hermione ran to the door to see what was going on. George, Angelina and Fred were to the right of the castle, out of the direct line of fire. Bill was to the left, also out of the line of fire, but pinned down and out of the fight. Ginny was several meters in front of the main doors, looking back at the lake.

Running full tilt from the lake was Harry, of course. They could see the two Patroni harassing the dragon, but they were fading rapidly.

Bill shouted something that made the dragon roar and paw at it eyes. Harry managed to get a lead on it, but the dragon began half-flying, half-staggering after him. Somehow, it knew exactly where Harry was.

Ginny shook her head. Blinding it wouldn't help. There was something besides sight leading the dragon to Harry. Something that had acted as the anchor.

Harry stumbled a little but gained his feet. Automatically, he pushed his glasses up firmly on his nose.

Glasses?

The silver stag rammed the dragon when it came down to earth. The dragon's tail swatted the stag and it vanished.

Harry staggered as if he'd been hit.

Fred's canary was torched out of the air. Fred sat down abruptly.

George and Angelina grabbed him and hauled him away from the castle and the fight.

Ron and Hermione came up behind Ginny, ready to dodge back into the castle.

"Expecto Patronum!" yelled Ron. A silvery mist shot out of his wand, obscuring Harry from the dragon's sight.

Ginny and Hermione summoned their Patroni as well, thickening the fog that was now shrouding Harry from their sight.

Sight. Glasses.

"Get inside!" Bill roared.

Harry almost made it.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were dashing into the almost empty front hall so they didn't see exactly what happened. They all heard Harry cry out. Then there was a thud.

The three whirled and went back out, followed by a third girl. Harry was lying in a bloody heap on the steps. The dragon's talon was reaching for Harry. Apparently, it was still under orders to bring him back to its master.

Ron started forward, only to be cut off by the third girl. "Expecto Patronum!" Cho called.

It wasn't a shapeless mist that came out of her wand to tackle the dragon. It was a human, on a fast moving broom. Ron's eyes went wide when he realized that Cho Chang's Patronus was Cedric Diggory.

The dragon snapped at it, but the Cedric-Patronus buzzed around its head as Harry had buzzed the horntail during the First Task. The dragon lunged, only to have Cedric-Patronus slip aside at the last second.

Still half-blind from the misty Patroni, the dragon collided with the castle wall, causing it to shudder.

Half-blind. Glasses.

A set of images came to Ginny's mind. Harry coming into their compartment on the Hogwarts Express without his glasses on. He hadn't got them back until after school had started. He'd worn them during the Ravenclaw game, but not in the match against Slytherin. He'd been wearing them in Hogsmeade when he'd been poisoned. He was wearing them now.

"CEDRIC! Harry's glasses! The dragon's after Harry's glasses!"

The Cedric-Patronus dived and snatched Harry's glasses. Then he hurled the glasses away from the castle. The dragon turned and pursued them.

Seconds after that, the teachers arrived.

"Move!" bellowed Dumbledore.

Dumbledore called something in a deep and terrible voice. He brought his wand down and lightning curled and crackled around the dragon's head.

The dragon fled. The teachers' curses flew after it, but the dragon managed to get back to its wyrmhole and disappear.

Ron and the girls dived for Harry. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Ron bellowed. He took a look at his best friend and was almost sick. Harry was lying in a pool of blood. Ron chased everybody back. "His spine could be damaged. If you touch him, you might kill him!" he warned the girls.

McGonagall knelt beside Harry, waving her wand over him. "He's alive, but Weasley's right. The vertebrae in his neck has been cracked It's sheer luck his spinal cord wasn't snapped."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Ron muttered, mostly to himself. "He's too damn stubborn to die."

Madam Pomfrey arrived so quickly, Ron almost suspected that Dumbledore had accio'ed her. The entrance hall was blocked off while she stabilized Harry's condition.

After an hour, Fred, George and Angelina were able to free Bill from his glob of peanut butter.

"Remind me to repay Charlie for that one," Bill muttered.

"We'll be happy to extend a family discount," Fred remarked.

None of them really felt like joking as they patrolled the outside of the castle to keep people from interrupting the healing session.

Hours later, they were able to move Harry to the Hospital Wing.

"Come along," McGonagall said to the Gryffindors.

Prof. Flitwick took Cho in hand and gently led her to Ravenclaw Tower.

The End of Year Five: 

The Prowlery was disbanded.

Madam Pomfrey made it abundantly clear that nobody was to sneak into the Hospital Wing to try to see Harry. She also declared that the traffic caused by the PROWL sessions might possibly interfere with the medical specialists who had been called in to treat Harry's injuries.

"As usual, Potter gets special treatment," sneered Snape after dinner one evening.

"Do you think I'd treat any other gravely injured student differently, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape was silenced. His usual sneer returned to his face when he saw Hermione and the Weasleys approaching. "What do you want?"

"We wanted to talk to the headmaster," Hermione said politely. "Sir, what about Harry's O.W.L.s? Even if…" She swallowed. "Even if he wakes up soon, he won't be in any kind of condition to take them."

"Why, Miss Granger," purred Snape. "I'm surprised at you. There is a very simple way for Mr. Potter to arrange to take the O.W.L.s later in the year, as long as he takes them before the beginning of his sixth year."

"There is?" Hermione said blankly.

Snape looked around and saw a large group of students had drifted closer to the Head Table to listen. All of the teachers were listening, including the two that Snape thought of as mock-teachers, Weasley and Binns.

"Weren't you saying something about that earlier, Flitwick?" Snape purred.

"Certainly," Flitwick looked happy. "This isn't the first time that a student was too badly injured to sit his O.W.L.s at the appointed time. All Potter needs to do is have his guardians fill out a Request for Deferment form."

Snape smirked before adding. "Then the headmaster will present the petition to the Board of Governors so they can decide if the circumstances warrant granting the student a second chance."

"The Dursleys will never sign," blurted Ron. "They hate magic."

"Oh, dear," Flitwick said. He looked at Dumbledore for reassurance, but found none.

Snape's smile was triumphant. He knew that the Board would grant a deferment, there was no reason not to. However, the cognoscenti knew that the Dursleys would sign the form around the same time that Lucius Malfoy joined a monastery.

Dumbledore couldn't get around this by having Sirius Black sign the form, because the petition would have to go to the Board of Governors. They wouldn't be as lenient about Black's status as Dumbledore had been.

Before Snape could get into a full gloat, however, a small cough brought everyone's attention around to Professor Binns.

"There is another way," Binns said mildly.

"Yes, Dustine?" Dumbledore said politely. There was something close to a pleading look in his eyes.

"If a student cannot take the O.W.L.s at the appointed time, but has earned an Honorary O.W.L., he is given an automatic postponement until August 31st." He gave Snape a severe look. "The Honorary O.W.L. would permit the student to move up into his Sixth year, so the tests are merely a courtesy. He need not take them at all."

Snape stared at Binns with something akin to horror in his eyes.

Binns opened a ghostly folder. In 1873 Frank Calvert & Heinrich Schliemann were awarded honorary O.W.L.s for proving the existence of the fabled city of Troy." He looked at Snape. "They weren't even wizards. Just a pair of Muggles who never even knew that they had been so honored."

He looked at Dumbledore. "Mr. Ron Weasley asked me to find out if he and Mr. Potter could get bonus points on their History of Magic O.W.L. for discovering the existence of the Chamber of Secrets. That got me thinking about the Chamber again. I did some research and I've concluded that their discovery rates considerably more than a few extra points. I'll present the Board of Governors with a petition to grant Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley with Honorary O.W.L.s in the History of Magic."

Snape's mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"An excellent suggestion, Dustine," Flitwick said happily.

Snape's head whipped around and Dumbledore's reaction was hardly less dramatic.

Flitwick smiled. "Mr. Potter not only mastered the Patronus charm, he managed to teach it to several students. Several of whom demonstrated their skill with it under fire." Flitwick scrambled to the top of the Head Table to add a little more authority to his statement. "Further more, the number of spells that he learned for the Tri-Wizard Tournament is a truly worthy feat. I have no doubt that he can pass the Charms O.W.L. with flying colors, and I intend to see that he gets his chance."

Bill cleared his throat.

"Let me guess," Snape snarled. "You intend to present the Board with a petition of your own."

Bill raised a coppery eyebrow. "Refresh my memory, how many times since Harry started school has he faced Voldemort and survived?"

The majority of people flinched.

Ron answered the rhetorical question. "There was the time in the forbidden forest, when he found You-Know-Who drinking unicorn blood. Then when he was protecting the Philosopher's Stone."

The students and several of the faculty gasped, hearing this for the first time.

"There was the affair in the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione pointed out. "Not to mention the fact that he killed the Basilisk down there."

"Don't forget the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament," added Ginny.

"Somehow I don't think that the Governors will turn this petition down, either," Dumbledore said. His eyes regained their usual twinkle. "Yes, I think we will be seeing Mr. Potter next year, Severus. Thank you for your suggestions, all."

Epilogue: 

Harry knew he was in the Hospital Wing before he was properly awake. Opening his eyes only confirmed the ugly truth.

"Harry?"

Whatever happened must have been bad, if Sirius was allowed in here during the daytime. Harry looked, but could not focus his eyes.

"It's all right, Harry," Sirius said. "You're going to be all right. I'm going to be grey-haired or bald, but you'll be all right."

There were a million things he wanted to say to Sirius, but all that came out was, "Dad?"

He didn't stay awake long enough to realize how much that one syllable meant.

The next time Harry woke up, he found Dumbledore sitting next to his bed.

"Wha' happened?"

"Do you remember the dragon?" Dumbledore asked.

"Quidditch."

"No, that was last year," Dumbledore said. "Get some sleep. We'll talk about it later."

Harry was asleep before he could protest that he'd just woke up.

Harry woke up from a nightmare about failing his O.W.L.s and having to live with the Dursleys forever. He blinked at the ceiling and realized that he probably had failed his O.W.L.s. Even if they weren't over by now, he wouldn't be able to take them.

"Hello, Harry. Back with us, are you?" Dumbledore's voice was gentle.

"I've failed."

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "You survived the second dragon attack. You managed to lure it away from the door long enough to everybody to get inside. Nobody was killed."

"I meant my O.W.L.s," Harry said. He tried to turn his head, but nothing seemed to be working. Faint memories of the dragon attack began to trickle in.

"You haven't failed those, either," Dumbledore said. "You've been granted a postponement until August 31st. I'll let your friends fill you in."

The Weasleys and Hermione came in as Dumbledore was filling in Harry on the battle. "I was impressed with your courage before," Dumbledore said. "I am impressed with you again. You have proven yourself to be true Gryffindors."

"Don't forget Cho Chang," Hermione said. "Her Patronus helped a lot."

"It did indeed," Dumbledore said. "I'll leave it to you to fill in the details."

He left and Harry looked at his visitors.

"If you try to thank us, we will be forced to sew your lips shut," George said.

Harry cleared his throat. Deprived of that topic, he went with his usual topic. "So, who won the Quidditch Cup?" Harry demanded.

"Listen to him, out of a three-week coma and his first thought was Quidditch," George said.

"He's a natural," Ron said.

"He's a nutter," Fred added.

"I didn't catch the Snitch this time," Ginny said. "Sorry, I guess I'm not very good."

"Not good! You were brilliant! You kept fooling Eloise about where the Snitch was so she didn't catch it either!" Ron said.

"So who won?" Harry asked.

"Angelina and the Hufflepuff captain eventually agreed to call it a game," Fred explained.

"Hufflepuff won the game on points," Hermione said. "However, that left Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tied for the Quidditch Cup. It will have all your names on it this year."

"It's going to be beautiful," Fred said with genuine emotion. "George and me as Beaters, Ronnie-kins as Keeper and Ginny as Reserve Seeker. Four Weasleys and an honorary Weasley on one Quidditch Cup."

"How'd you do on your O.W.L.s?"

"Hermione set a new school record, of course," Ron said proudly.

"Ron did exceptionally well," Hermione added.

"It helped that I didn't have to sit for the History of Magic O.W.L.," Ron admitted.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because you and I were granted Honorary O.W.L.s for discovering the Chamber of Secrets," Ron said. "Flitwick and Bill managed to finagle you O.W.L.s, too, but it was Binn's idea. McGonagall didn't petition the Board for a Transfiguration HOWL, though. She doesn't think you should advertise that you're an Animagus."

"She has a point," Harry said. He sat there, shaking his head. "Binns, of all people. I can't believe it."

"Of course, you'll have to show him the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione pointed out. "He'll need verification that you can open it. In fact, I think he came up with the idea for the HOWL just so he'd have an excuse to get you to open it."

"I see," Harry said.

"But it doesn't have to be until next year," Ginny added.

Harry grinned. "Guess Snape will have to endure me for another year," he said.

"With any luck, the Weasley clan will have to endure you for the summer," Ron said. "You, too, Hermione."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "My parents would like to do some enduring, too," she said.

Harry smiled gratefully.

Just then, Cho walked in. "Am I interrupting?"

"Oh, no," Ginny said. "We were just leaving." She ushered her brothers out of the door. She wasn't going to be petty and jealous of Cho. After all, Cho's Patronus had saved the day. Ginny could be gracious enough to give the Ravenclaw some privacy with Harry.

For at least five minutes.

Maybe six.

Cho smiled as they left. "I don't think Ginny likes me," she said.

"She does," Harry said. "You didn't get turned into a giant canary, did you?"

Cho grinned. Then she took a deep breath. "Did they tell you about my Patronus?"

"Only that it saved my life," Harry said.

"It's Cedric."

Harry stared. "Oh."

"I hope that you get a chance to see it someday," she added.

"You sound like I won't get the chance any time soon," Harry said.

"I've decided to go to Beauxbatons," Cho replied. "It's not running away, now. I'll always have Cedric with me." She paused. "Does your Patronus have meaning?

Harry reached over to the bedside table and picked up a box that contained odds and ends, including the ring that his mother had bought for his father.

"The stag was my father's symbol," he said, showing it to Cho.

"So your Patronus is your father." Cho took it and looked it over. She read the inscription silently.

"My mum gave it to him," Harry added. "It's too big for me."

Cho nodded. "I have an idea," she pulled a black silk cord from around her neck. There was a coppery disk with some sort of design stamped into both sides. "One side has the Chinese character for 'long life,'" she explained. She showed him the other side. "This bird is a feng... a Chinese phoenix." She threaded the ring on the cord, then hung the coin and ring around Harry's neck.

"Thank you, Harry. For everything."

"Erm, I don't have anything for you," Harry said.

"You gave me my Patronus," Cho replied. "And some peace of mind. I hope this can bring you some luck." She gave him a small peck on the cheek before she left.

Transfer of Feeling: 

It was the last day of school. Tomorrow night, Harry would be the only student left at Hogwarts. It was almost too depressing to make up for not having to return to the Dursleys, but not quite.

Everybody was at the leaving feast except for Harry and Ginny. Ron and Hermione would come by later, he was sure. Right now, they seemed determined to give him some time alone with Ginny.

Hagrid had come by before the feast had started and had given Harry a hand-carved carrying case for his Wishing Star broom. Harry showed it off to Ginny.

"That's nice," Ginny said. She paused to think of something to say. "So, you and I can study for O.W.L.s together this summer?" she asked rather than stated.

"I guess," Harry sighed. "I hope I pass one of them. People will say I got preferential treatment."

"Only idiots like Skeeter or creeps like Malfoy," Ginny said calmly. "Ignore them."

"What if they're right?" Harry asked.

"They aren't."

"I wish I could be that certain."

Ginny looked at him speculatively. "Actually, I know a way that you can be."

Harry cocked his head. "Really? How?"

"It's a simple Transfer of Feeling spell," Ginny explained. "It's not as dangerous as what Nicely did," she added quickly.

"How does it work?" Harry asked.

Ginny moved from her chair to sit on the edge of his bed. "Well, we look each other in the eye. I say 'transferro me' and you say." She stopped and bit her lip. "No, sorry, it's the other way. I say 'transferro te' and you say 'transferro me.'

"Transferro me," Harry repeated obediently.

"But you have to remember to keep eye contact, and we have to say it at the same time." She took his new glasses off and cupped his cheeks in her hands. "Ready?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"Okay, go," Ginny said.

"Transferro mmph!"

Harry couldn't complete the spell because Ginny kissed him.

He stared at her, wide-eyed. "You tricked me!"

"No I didn't," Ginny said indignantly. "I said it would transfer emotion!"

"You said it would transfer feeling," Harry corrected her.

"Well, didn't it?"

Harry stared at her for a few minutes and Ginny felt her face heat up.

"I don't think it worked," Harry said. A very small grin crept across his face. "Maybe we should try that again?"

Ginny grinned.

The End

Dedicated to my wonderful Beta-reader at Anne, my Beta-reader at SugarQuill, Seldes Katne, Moey, for all her hard work and my sister, Karen, because she will read this someday, so I'd better mention her.

Also dedicated to you wonderful people who read and review!

Hope you liked this story. I had a ton of stuff that I wanted to do with Sirius, Ginny and Hermione's Animagus forms, why Malfoy helped Harry in chapter 21, Winky the Evil House Elf, and the articles in Lily's trunk.

Some of that went into "A Sirius Situation", which is finally finished! Yay!

Re: The end of the Gryffindor Hufflepuff match: According to Quidditch Through the Ages (page 28): "A game of Quidditch ends only when the Golden Snitch has been caught, or by mutual consent of the two team captains."


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